Skip to main content

Full text of "The works of Thomas Shepard, first pastor of the First Church, Cambridge, Mass."

See other formats


Google 


This  is  a  digital  copy  of  a  book  that  was  preserved  for  generations  on  library  shelves  before  it  was  carefully  scanned  by  Google  as  part  of  a  project 

to  make  the  world's  books  discoverable  online. 

It  has  survived  long  enough  for  the  copyright  to  expire  and  the  book  to  enter  the  public  domain.  A  public  domain  book  is  one  that  was  never  subject 

to  copyright  or  whose  legal  copyright  term  has  expired.  Whether  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  may  vary  country  to  country.  Public  domain  books 

are  our  gateways  to  the  past,  representing  a  wealth  of  history,  culture  and  knowledge  that's  often  difficult  to  discover. 

Marks,  notations  and  other  maiginalia  present  in  the  original  volume  will  appear  in  this  file  -  a  reminder  of  this  book's  long  journey  from  the 

publisher  to  a  library  and  finally  to  you. 

Usage  guidelines 

Google  is  proud  to  partner  with  libraries  to  digitize  public  domain  materials  and  make  them  widely  accessible.  Public  domain  books  belong  to  the 
public  and  we  are  merely  their  custodians.  Nevertheless,  this  work  is  expensive,  so  in  order  to  keep  providing  tliis  resource,  we  liave  taken  steps  to 
prevent  abuse  by  commercial  parties,  including  placing  technical  restrictions  on  automated  querying. 
We  also  ask  that  you: 

+  Make  non-commercial  use  of  the  files  We  designed  Google  Book  Search  for  use  by  individuals,  and  we  request  that  you  use  these  files  for 
personal,  non-commercial  purposes. 

+  Refrain  fivm  automated  querying  Do  not  send  automated  queries  of  any  sort  to  Google's  system:  If  you  are  conducting  research  on  machine 
translation,  optical  character  recognition  or  other  areas  where  access  to  a  large  amount  of  text  is  helpful,  please  contact  us.  We  encourage  the 
use  of  public  domain  materials  for  these  purposes  and  may  be  able  to  help. 

+  Maintain  attributionTht  GoogXt  "watermark"  you  see  on  each  file  is  essential  for  in  forming  people  about  this  project  and  helping  them  find 
additional  materials  through  Google  Book  Search.  Please  do  not  remove  it. 

+  Keep  it  legal  Whatever  your  use,  remember  that  you  are  responsible  for  ensuring  that  what  you  are  doing  is  legal.  Do  not  assume  that  just 
because  we  believe  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  the  United  States,  that  the  work  is  also  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  other 
countries.  Whether  a  book  is  still  in  copyright  varies  from  country  to  country,  and  we  can't  offer  guidance  on  whether  any  specific  use  of 
any  specific  book  is  allowed.  Please  do  not  assume  that  a  book's  appearance  in  Google  Book  Search  means  it  can  be  used  in  any  manner 
anywhere  in  the  world.  Copyright  infringement  liabili^  can  be  quite  severe. 

About  Google  Book  Search 

Google's  mission  is  to  organize  the  world's  information  and  to  make  it  universally  accessible  and  useful.   Google  Book  Search  helps  readers 
discover  the  world's  books  while  helping  authors  and  publishers  reach  new  audiences.  You  can  search  through  the  full  text  of  this  book  on  the  web 

at|http: //books  .google  .com/I 


C  HARVARD  COLLEGE  LI  BRARY3 


ir"T  Yf  TniiiWii  fiim  xi  m  «i4« 


r 


THE 


WORKS 


^ 


\ 


OP 


THOMAS    SHEPARD, 


rimiT  ?ABTom  or 


THE  FIRST  CHURCH,  CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 


WITB  A 


MEMOIR  OF  HIS  LIFE  AND  CHARACTER. 


VOL.  I. 


'  BOSTON: 

DOCTBIKAL   TRACT    AND    BOOK   SOCIETY. 

\    18  5  3. 


b^yy.TVoi'tfvERTISEMENT. 


Tbb  DcFtrinil  Tract  ind  Book  Soriety  now  offer  to  the  pablic  a  col- 
lected edition  of  the  works  of  rbomos  Shcpard,  with  a  Memoir  of  his  Lift 
and  Character.  Tho  Memoir  vaa  wriiica  b;  John  A.  Albro,  D.  D.,  of 
Cambrid^  —  the  Pwitor  of  the  same  church  galliered  by  Shcpard,  Tht 
article*  which  make  the  Tolumcs  wb  now  issao  were  printed,  aorno  of  Iheiii 
in  Shcpard'a  lifetime,  and  tome  nflcr  \».i  death ;  some  of  them  in  ihb 
country,  and  some  of  them  in  England.  Some  of  them  have  passed  throneili 
KTBraf  editions,  and  were  mnch  estocmBd,  and  eierlcd  great  influence  to 
their  daj,  bat  all  or  which  ha<e  long  since  been  out  of  the  market,  and  ara 
not  CO  he  found,  except  in  some  public  and  ancieDt  library,  or  here  and  thsra 
in  eom?  family,  handed  down  from  post  cBnerntions. 

From  Ilia  character  ini  inflneDce  in  me  early  history  of  the  Maasachu- 
ietts  colony,  fi'oui  the  intrinsic  merit  of  bis  writings,  and  from  an  in- 
creasinc  desire  Ibnl  the  sacrvd  literature  of  the  New  Eoglnnd  futbcrs  should' 
be  revived  and  placed  before  the  preseoE  generation,  it  baa  been  deemed 
desirable  lo  issue  Sliepard's  works. 

His  power  aa  a  preacher  has  seldom  been  equaled,  and  his  writings  bars 
hod,  and  ore  destined  still  lo  have,  great  innaeDce  in  the  formation  of 
Christian  character.  The  frequent  ijnolaliona  from  him  by  President 
Edwards  and  the  earnest  commendation  of  him  by  Dnrid  Brainerd  (bm 
vol.  iii.  page  337}  and  other  distinguished  men,  are  sufScient  lo  secun  ~'  ~ 
extenoi'e  circnlalion  and  reading  of  these  volumes, 

Shcpnrd's  stylo  of  writing  is  somewhat  peculiar.  He  abounds  in  na  . .. 
ical  divisions  and  subdivisions,  ant)  sometimes  these  diviiions  ood  snbdi* 
viaion*  are  so  intermixed  as  lo  make  it  difficult  to  dislingaisb  the  one  Irani 
the  other.  A  few  otnoletc  words  are  sometimes  used,  and  In  a  few  instnncei, 
stntences  are  found  somewhat  obacure.  owing,  as  is  presumed,  to  the  fad 
thai  some  of  the  articles  were  published  after  his  death  from  brief  notes  used 
to  guide  his  thonKbls  in  speaking,  and  not  designed  for  the  press,  and  which 
be  would  have  tilled  out.  or  made  more  pcrspicuDos,  had  he  tired  to  edit 
Ibese  articles  himself.  Bnt,  test  we  should  bo  supposed  to  alter  his  mean- 
ing, we  do  not  undertake  to  fill  up  seeming  omissions,  or  to  clear  up  ob- 
scurities. We  design  lo  eivc  a  faithful  transcript  of  the  man,  and  his  works, 
without  abridgment  or  nitonition,  except  the  onhoyrojAg,  which  we  conform 
to  the  present  standards.  We  would  have  those  eminent  men  of  oldea 
lime,  who,  by  their  stem  integrity,  their  consistent  pict;,  and  their  ardent 
attachment  lo  diiine  tratb,  contributed  so  much  to  give  character  and 


Btaldlity  to  our  instilntions,  speak  for  themselves,  and  in  their  own  manner. 

While  we  revere  their  memory,  and  are  ibantful  for  the  pKvileRe  of  trans- 
milling  their  pious  and  able  productions  lo  sncceedinf*  generations,  we  do 
not  feel  responsible  for  every  aenliruent  ibey  have  advanced,  and  would 
leave  each  reader  to  compaie  them  with  the  only  infallible  standard,  and  form 
hii  own  conclusions. 

With  these  sentiments,  we  commit  these  volames  to  the  public,  with  tiia 
devout  prayer  that  a  divine  blessing  may  attend  them,  and'lliat  the  piety 
■nd  power  of  Shepord  may  be  revived  ngun. 

Boston,  May,  1853.  Tas  Editor. 


CONTENTS 


VOLUME   I. 


r  Tbomib  Seefakd,  bt  Jons  A.  At-BBo,  D.  D^ 


SINCERE    CONVERT. 

CHAPTEB  I. 

■  God,  and  ihia  God  is  most  glorioiu 

I  Pour  giODudi  Ui  proTB  ibere  ia  a  God 

I  OhJcctioBi  aniwcred, 
I  Godn 


DbilU 


ll-l 


W-Ooi  mMt  gloHoot  in  hii  auribatM, 

P,AnribalM  oT  God  lUlcd  and  «xpUinod 15-17 

>d  gloHoat  ia  hu  pcrcon, 
■■  Ood  glofiaiu  in  bii  woiki,   . 


CHAPTEB   n. 
(Ood  Bftd«  in  mankiod  at  SnI  in  a  moi-t  glorioaa  and  bnppf  state, 

lik«  snlo  faimwir,      18-2* 

;«  of  God  in  man  appeared  in  four  punirulai?,  in  hia  an- 
anding,  in  his  aSectiona,  in  hit  will,  aait  in  bis  life,    ...     18,  19 
nalDTe  of  Adam's  lin,  and  tbe  occssion  ercry  man  baa  Co 
Dl  bi*  fallen  itale, 19,  SO 

■  Hw  Milken  ipeaki  comfort  lo  God'a  people,  SO 

■  Tbc  rabjHt  reproTin  loch  ai  are  aibamed  of  holineu, 30,  SI 

Ens  nttitiet  rq>niTet  inch  as  bats  holineii 21 

«  taliimt  reproTea  iDch  a*  ore  contcntod  with  ■  cefUin  meonire 


of  holinau, 


»  get  the  in 


^ot  Godn 


S3,  a* 


CIIAPTEU  111- 
id  litllcn  bir  sin  into  a  aunt  woftil  and  miaenble  eoaditJan,    14-16 
'■  HiMrj  bj  the  fall,  in  regard  (o  lin  and  iu  eonaeqaencei,    .    .    M-!T 
BSb*  Wil  acUoni  of  DDitnenred  men  arc  sinftil 


CONTESTS. 

Objection  imiwercd 

Man's  preaent  misery  in  regard  to  tbo  consequcDcea  of  *ia  in  BOTcn 

panicnlara, 32-35 

I'uturc  miacry  in  conaeqiicnco  of  sin, 3S-3T 

A  general  judgment  prored 39, 40 

How  ibe  jndgtUGBt  ahall  bo 40,41 

The  wrath  of  God,  what  ? 43-46 

CHAPTER  IT. 

The  Lordjeaus  Cbmt  is  the  oolv  means  oC  redemption  nod  dcliT. 

How  Christ  rtdeemelh  men  shown  in  fonr  parlicDlira, 46 

Christ  is  offered  to  all, 49 

»    Four  sorts  of  people  that  nycol  ChriW, 5S.  53 

Rqecting  Christ  adangeroDs  sin  in  Qre  respects, 53,  54 

The  danger  of  Mcnrity M,  5S 

CHAPTER  V. 

Thoie  that  are  saved  are  few,  and  are  sarad  wift  taaA  dtllicalij,    .  55-«e 

The  small  namber  of  true  believers  in  all  ptacei 95-ftS 

A  n»e  of  exhortation  to  all, 98,  59 

Objections  and  pleas  answered, 59-63 

Unregf  Derate  men  live  in  some  known  sin,  and  are  nerer  poor  in  spirit,  GS,  G3 

Those  Ibat  are  saved,  saved  with  di&uItT, 64 

Four  strait  galea  described, 54,  65 

Nine  eas;  wajs  to  heaven,  all  which  lead  to  hell G5-6S 

CHAPTER   VI 

The  cause  of  nan's  eternal  ruin  is  from  himself, 68-109 

The  ways  in  which  men  rain  themselves  —  by  ignorance,    ....  68 

Two  sorts  of  people  ignorant  of  their  misery, G9-T1 

Palse  principles  by  which  men  are  deceived, TI,7S 

Seven  distempers  In  the  mind  whereby  men  ftre  deceived,  ....  73-78 

Mialakitig  some  li^t  sorrow  for  sin  Tor  trae  repentanee, 

Mistaking  compunctions  of  conacience  fbr  striving  apuott  tin,    .    .  79,30 

■^    Mistaking  the  exercises  of  the  heart, 80-8 

■-     How  false  peace  is  bred  in  the  soul, ■ 83,  8 

I.  By  Satan,  in  live  ways 83-90 

3.  By  false  teachers, 85.  H 

3.  By  a  false  spirit,  five  several  ways, M,n 

L  By  a  false  application  of  the  tr 


Cornpiioni  uid  diswaipers  of  Ilie  will,  ilie  tniisc  of  «elf-Jcccp- 

tioD,  three  wajg, 

Canwl  iccaritf  h  aoolher  reuoa  of  man't  min, 

JUwon*  (if  tbia  Mcurilv  wen  in  (en  puiticulnra, 

An  exhorution  lo  rkrIco  ouI  of  icLiiriiy 

""Tftllr  ''AM  in  ffrr  «  •-r'-r-  '■"" 93,94 

CunatMoSdenei)  is  aaotlier  rcawn  of  man's  rain.      .    .    - 
Cinikl  conftdonn  leen  ia  tbcir  resting  in  duties  ibowa  ii 

paniculara, 

VTbj  men  ntit  in  their  dnlica,  four  naatiat 99, 10 

Bi^o*  of  ■  Dian'a  realing  in  hii  dutio,  six  pnrtiuulnn 101-lt> 

Tba  iotutGi-iencj  of  all  duties  to  save  nan, 104. 10 

The  end  of  oar  good  dulid, 10S-)0 

k  Pretampiioii  or  falK  faith  another  way  of  man'i  ruin,     ....    lOT,  10 


87-89 


89-93 


9S-99 


SOUND  BELIEVER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

«  THE  CBEAT  CAUSE  OF  THE  ETEBNAI^  FERDITIOK  OF  HEN  IB 
or  THEMSELVES,  SO  THE  ONLY  CAUSE  OF  THE  ACTUAL  DE- 
LIVERASVE  ASD  SALVATION  OF  HAN  IS  JESUS  CQKIST. 

BacT.  I.  A  fourfold  act  of  Chnii'i  power  in  rescuing  and  deliv- 
ering men  out  of  tbeir  miHmble  stale lls- 

K.  1.  H>«  flnt  Mt  of  Christ'a  power  ia^conrkiion  of  >in. 
WhW  [^  ^  almhe  I.<ird  conricn  of*  How  hp  doth 
h  1  and  what  meainre  and  degree  of  convkiion  he 
work lir- 

ficcT.  X  The  second  act  of  Chri*l'«  [lower  is  compunction ,  or 
Hniw  of  An,  I .  This  rompunction  innni'dialely  fol- 
lows ronriclion.  S-  The  Dcce»ity  of  this  to  sarreed 
the  other.  3.  Wherein  it  consisli.  4.  The  raensure 
of  it  in  all  Ihe  elect, 136- 

8bc*.  •-  The  third  act  of  Christ's  power,  which  is  humiliation. 
1.  Whil  it  this  hnmiliiitioa  ?  a.  What  need  IUgi« 
1*  of  it-  3.  What  means  (he  Lord  nseih  to  work  it. 
A.  What  meaiure  of  ii  ii  here  required, IT4-1M 

Sacr.  S.    The  fonnh  and  lait  act  of  Christ's  power  is  the  work 

off^h.     1.    Faith  dafinad.  190-191 


i  COMTKKTS. 

2.    Theeffidcnt  canieorruA, 193-lM 

8.   The  sabjecl  or  matter  of  futh, IM-SOl 

4.   Theform  offaiLb, BOl-SIl 

G.   The  eDd  of  faith SU-319 

6.   The  apecinl  ground  of  fiitli,  vii^  tbe  odl  of  Chrial 

in  bis  word, St9 

The  DBlure  of  thii  call 290-223 

The  oeceuli;  of  this  call  in  ibre«  piirticnlnra,      .    .    .  223-230 

An  exborWtioQ  to  come  to  Cbriit, 230-237 

CHAPTEE  n. 

T^T   SIKKES.  BELIEVING    IN   CUBIST,   IS  TRANSI.ATED  IKTO  A 
HOST  BLESgHD   AND    HAPl'V  ESTATE:     WHAT   IS   THAT  BATPV 

STATE  TUET    ARE   UADE  PARTAKEIIS   OF,   ANSWERED  IK   SIX 
FAKTICCl^BS,  AS  FOLLOWS:  — 

8aoT.  I.   Juatifi cation,  ila  natni^  its  efilcient  cioae,  its  sabjecCs, 

kOd  ilB  re»DlU,  ■    -     -  ( 237-247 

SaoT.  9.    Beconciliailon.    It   (»Ds(its  in   two  things,  viz^  our 

peace  with  God,  and  the  lore  and  favor  of  God,    .    .  247-951 

SaoT.  3.    Adoption ;  begun  and  pcrTecled, SSl-9as 

Bict.  *-    Bsnclifi cation,  its  natnra,  and  its  ertdenee  of  ^nstifl- 

ciition, 963-963 

SbCt.  B.    Andipnce  of  all  players, 963-267 

Sbci.  6.    Glorifitalioo.     What  is  it  7 9S7-274 


CHAPTEB   III. 

AU.  THOSE  TBAT  ARE  TBAKSLATED  ISTO  TBIS  BLEfiSED  ESTATE 
ARE  BOPND  TO  LIVE  THE  LIFE  OF  LOVE,  IN  FRUITFUL  AND 
TBANKFUL  OBEDIENCE  UNTO  SIU  THAT  HATH  CALLED  THEM, 
ACCORDING  TO  THE  RUI^  OF  THE  IIOSAL  LAW,      .     .     S75-SU 


^'        THE    SAINT'S    JEWEL.      SHOWINQ    HOW   TO  APFLI    THB  | 

PBUM1SE8 9SS-99T 

CESTAIN    SELECT    CASES    RESOLVED    TENDIKti    TO   THE 

KIUHT  OBDERISG   OF  THE   HEART. 299-331 

■         CHC  riaST  PB1NCIFLE3  OF  THE  OKACLE*  OF  SOD,       ,     .     333-3^1 


LIFE 


THOMAS     SHEPARD. 


JOHN  A.  ALBRO,  D.D., 


FIRST  CHURCH  AND  SHEPARD  SOCIETT, 
CAMBBIDQE,   IIASS. 


Tr»  maipriflls  for  the  ensuing  Life  of  Tuovas  SnEPASD  hsre  been 
gathered  rroin  hia  own  wridngs,  and  from  all  aeeoasitle  conlempomneoufl 
■onri-cs.  Besides  bis  printed  works,  which  exhibit  his  views  of  religion  nnd 
the  chureli,  nnd  aid  aHtn  forming  a,  judgment  r^pecting  his  niind  and  ehnr- 
■cler,  Hr.  Shepard  \e(t  in  MS.  an  Antobiography.  eontaining  brief  nDliees 
of  tho  principal  OTeats  in  hia  peironnl  anddameelic  historj,  which  was  first, 
published  to  the  world  by  Rev.  I^eheiniah  Adums,  in  IS33.aniI  more  rcoent* 
Ij  by  Bev.  Mr..Yonnp,  in  "  The  Chrooidea  of  MassachoBclls."  The  Life 
of  Sbepard,  as  it  is  railed,  in  Mather's  Mugoalia.  the  only  one  i 
been  written,  is  but  little  more  than  an  abridgment  of  this  Autobiographr,' 
(the  third  perwD  being  nied  instead  of  the  first,}  with  a  few  quaint,  general 
observations  interspersed,  which,  together,  conslilDle  but  a  meager  and 
Unsatisractary  view  of  the  chnraeter  and  inSacnce  of  (his  eminent  man.  In 
the  present  work.  Mr.  Sbepard's  «rcount  of  himself  has,  of  course,  been 
relied  on,  ai  far  as  it  goes,  for  faetd  and  dates  ;  but  a  vast  amount  of  inat- 
ler,  eawntial  to  the  illustration  ofliis  labors,  and  to  ujust  view  of  his  posi- 
tiou  in  New  England,  has  been  drawn  from  other  sources.  Several  inter- 
esting MS,  Letters,  never  before  published,  which  throw  moch  light  npon 
Hr.  Shepard's  domestic  and  publie  life,  have,  hj  the  pcnniBsion  of  Mr.  Felt, 
the  BCCompliBbcd  librarian  of  the  Massachnsetts  Historical  Society,  been 
kindly  transcribed  for  the  aoihor  bj  Mr.  David  Pulsifer,  the  only  man.  it 
_il  believed,  who  could  hare  deciphered  the  chirography  in  which  ibey  hava 
been  locked  np  for  more  than  two  hundred  years.  The  work  is,  doubileia, 
very  imperfect,  notwithstanding  all  the  pains  which  have  been  token  to  ren- 
der it  complete ;  but,  as  a  sincere  tribute  to  the  memory  of  one  uf  New 
England's  best  as  well  as  chief  faihers.  and  an  attempt  to  vindicate  the 
principles  of  those  men  to  whom  we  owe  onr  civil  nnd  religious  liberty,  it 
it  commended  to  the  children  of  the  Puritans,  in  tlie  hope  that  it  toay  be 
regarded  as  not  entirety  destitute  tif  interest,  and  contribute  somewhat  to 
the  auccesB  of  the  cause  in  which  we  are  engaged. 


'/ 


This  memoir  was  originally  written  for  the  Massschus 
Society,  anrl  may  be  hud,  sepamtely,  at  iheir  Depositor; 


s  Snbbnth  School 


LIFE 


THOMAS    SHEPARD. 


CHAPTER  : 


T1ieihidd</  Tftith.  —  General  charuMr  and  diSferent  cluseiof  earif  K.  E. 
niouun.  — Ur.  Shepardone  of  iho  Hral  clua.— Hia  birch.  — Wiltiam 
Sbcpard.  —  A  nolber'j  inSa*nce.  —  Seat  u>  reaide  with  bj*  graadparenli. 
Bnnair4  to  Adlhrop. —  Whitian'Ale!, — Retami  home.  —  Changes  in 
ibc  hnilj.  —  L'nkind  ncp-moiher.  — Welsh  ichoolroMtfr.  —  Death  of  hi» 
iitbtr.  —  Ednntion  negleeied  by  hi*  motber-in-law.  — Hi*  brotlier  John 
cAn  to  edncau  him.  —  Goca  to  a  new  achooL  —  DiUgBHc*  in  ftodjr. — 
Fittad  for  college. 

VnaiL.  in  ihe  eighth  book  of  the  ^oeid,  tells  us  that  the 
riiieU  «bich  Vulcan,  at  the  request  of  Venus,  made  for  j^ncas, 
coMahied  in  Biiteeti  comparttnenis,  or  pictures,  a  prophetic 
of  the  Roman  history  from  the  birlh  of  Asca-  , 
U  the  battle  of  Actium. 

-  The  brettnii  flm  a  glorious  shield  prepare, 
Capadous  of  iho  wholo  Rutulian  war. 
Sotiw.  orii  in  orh,  the  biailng  bncklrr  fratQO , 
ScMB*  with  bugs  bellows  roaso  thu  ronriac  flaine. 

With  joj  Ihe  weight]'  ipear  Ihe  prince  beheld. 
Bat  moat  admireil  the  hago,  mysterious  shield ; 
Tot  there  had  Vnlc?«n,  ibilleil  in  times  to  come. 
Displa]>ed  tbe  iriumphi  of  immortal  Rome ; 


There  all  llic  Julian  lino  [he  goJ  liiul  MTouglit, 
And  chiirged  the  gold  with  hatllts  yet  imfought."  • 

A  device  which   must  have    been    as   terrible  to  the  enemies 
of  the  Trojiiii  hero  as  it  was  encouraging  lo  the  bearer. 

What  Virgil  liere  presents  as  a  beautiful  poetic  idea,  the 
Redeemer  of  the  church  has  actually  realized  for  us.  TVe  have  , 
tlie  shield  of  faith,  wherewitJi  to  quench  all  the  fiery  darts  of/ 
iho  wicked,  emblazoned  with  the  mighty  history,  past  and  pro- 
spective, of  his  stupendous  victories.  On  one  part  of  ita  flam- 
ing disk  we  see  the  story  of  the  ancient  dispensation,  written 
for  the  admonition  and  encoun^cment  of  those  who  have  inher- 
ited "  the  covenants,  and  the  promises,  and  the  service  of  God ;" 
on  another  portion,  there  appears  the  memorable  history  of  our 
own  New  England  Patriarchs,  from  the  birth  of  Puritanism 
to  the  permanent  and  quiet  settlement  of  a  pure  church  in 
this  land,  exhibiting  the  trials,  sufferings,  conllicts,  and  triumphs 
of  those  Christian  heroes  who  turned  this  wilderness  into  a  fruit- 
ful field ;  a  history  which  should  be  kept  in  perpetual  remem- 
brance, and  constantly  held  forth  to  the  world,  for  the  purpose 
of  animating  their  and  our  posterity  in  the  labors  and  contticta 
that  are  before  ua.f 

The  ministers  and  Christiana  by  whom  New  England  was 
planted,  as  one  of  our  early  historians  has  remarked,  were  a 
chosen  company  of  men.  drawn  from  nearly  all  the  counties 
of  England,  not  by  any  human  contrivance,  but  by  a  peculiar 
work  of  God  upon  their  spirits,  inspiring  them  as  one  man  to 
retire  into  the  wilderness  they  knew  not  where,  and  to  suffer 
in  that  wilderness  they  knew  not  what,  for  the  glory  of  God, 


*  Ingmtom  cljpcuiii  inromiDDi,  nnum  omaift  contin 
Tela  Lttinoram,  ioptenasqne  orbibiu  urb«a 
Impediunt. 

Illic  rei  Iiolu,  Romflnominqne  Iriampbos 
Haud  VBtum  jgnaras,  vonlarique  inscias  ajri, 
FeMrat  ignipolens:  illic  geniu  oiiiDe  futune 
Slirpia  »b  Ascanio.  pngnataqae  in  ordino  bella. 

t  See  Letters  on  the  Turilans.  hy  J.  B.  Williams. 


LtFK   or   TUUMAS   SlieiVVKI),  Xl 

>nd  for  the  good  of  their  children.*  "  God  sifted  three  Tin- 
tkiiM,"  says  Stoughtoit,  "  thnt  be  miglit  bring  clioiL-e  whcnt  inro 
bis  wilderness."  i 

These  enrly  ininislerB  of  New  England  are  divided,  byv 
Uather,  into  three  classes:  I.  Those  wlio  were  onlaini^d  and 
in  the  m-tual  ciercise  of  the  piinisiry  when  they  left  Englnnd, 
and  were  iho  first  to  preach  the  gospel  nod  to  establish  church- 
tt,  according  to  the  scriptural  model,  in  this  country.  2.  Young 
Rcbolars,  who  came  over  from  England  with  their  parents  and 
riende,  and  completed  their  education  —  already  begun  at  home 
-in  this  country,  before  the  college  waa  in  a  condition  lo  be- 
atow  its  honors.  3.  Those  who  came  over  lo  New  England 
4fter  the  re  establishment  of  Epiacopocy  in  the  mother  country, 
And  ibe  revival  of  that  persecutipn  which  was  designed,  as 
Jamea  I.  declured,  lo  force  the  Puritans  to  conform,  or  to  "  harry 
tbem  out  of  the  kingdom." 

To  these  Mather  adds  a  fourth  class,  which  he  calls,  fitly 
•nough,  the  "Anomalies  of  New  England,"  tjial  is,  a  few  mints* 
ton  from  oilwr  parts  of  the  world,  who  proved  either  so  errone- 
aa»  Id  their  principles,  or  so  scandalous  in  their  lives,  or  so  hostile 

0  ibe  order  of  the  churches,  that  they  cannot  be  classed  among 
r  "  woriliies,"  and  deserve  no  honorable  notice  from  us.t 
Mr.  Shepard,  whose  life  we  here   ollempt  lo  delineate,  be- 

K>g<!d  to  ihc  fii'st  class  of  rainiaters,  who  were   instrumental 

1  laying  the  foundations  and  in  settling  ihe  order  of  the  firstN 
rfiarcfaea   in    Massachusetts ;    and   although    his   humility  ever 
qpHMtnuned  him  to  lake  the  loweiit  place,  yet  in  learning,  lal- 
CnU,  picly,  and  influence  be  was  not  a  whit  behind  the  "  very 

Aicfcsl  of  the  apostles  "  of  Congregationalism  in  the  new  world. 
Bo  was  one  of  those  "  wise  master  builders  " —  few  in  number, 
but  grtu  in  oil  that  constitutes  true  excellence  —  lo  whom  we 
e  whatever  of  simplicity,  strength,  or  solidity  belongs  to  our 
»ysiem,  and,  wc  may  udd,  lo  our  civil  state.  His 
MMf  not  be  so  oflen  pronounced  in  discourse  respecting 


>  MsKnalin, 


Xll  LIFE   OK   TtlOUAa    I^IIEI'AKD. 

the  ori^Dol  cooBtitution  of  our  churches  as  ihat  of  John  Cotton, 
who  has  been  called,  and  not  improperly,  the  "  Father  of  Con- 
gregationfllism "  in  New  England ;  but  the  part  he  actt^,  and 
the  influence  he  exerted  in  fashioning  iheso  churches  according 
to  the  "pattern  showed  in  the  mount,"  entitled  bin)  to  equal 
honor.  Not  inferior  to  Norton,  Hooker,  or  Davenport,  in  intel- 
.  lectUttl  strength  and  logical  acutencss,  he  perhaps  excelled  Lhem 
^all  in  lliitt  flne,  beautiful,  practical  spirit,  which  was  at  that  time 
more  needed  than  even  genius,  and  in  contemplating  which,  we 
become  insensible  to  the  greatness  of  hia  talents  and  the  extent 
of  his  learning.  Although  he  was  a  prominent  and  an  efRcient 
actor  in  scenes  of  controversy  and  public  disorder,  which  stirred 
up  all  the  fountains  of  bitterness,  such  were  his  candor  and  ten- 
■iderness  that  the  odium  of  persecution  was  never  attached  to  his 
memory  ;  and  while  subject  to  tike  passions,  and  exposed  to  the 
same  temptations,  as  other  men,  his  reputation  has  descended  to 
as  without  a  blot  from  the  hand  of  friend  or  foe.  It  is  not  too 
much,  therefore,  to  say,  that  Mr.  Shcpard  was  a  man  whom 
Mnssachusetts  and  New  England  ought  to  hold  in  profound  re- 
ipect ;  and  his  lite,  if  it  receives  any  thing  like  justice  from  hia 
biographer,  will  be  read  with  interest  and  proUt  by  all  classes  of 
the  community. 

Thomas  Suepard  was  bora  at  Towcester,  near  Northamp- 
too,  in  Northamptonshire,  England,  on  the  fifth  day  of  Novem- 
Niher,  1605.  Hb  own  statement,  in  his  Autobiography,  is,  that 
he  was  born  ''  in  the  year  of  Christ  1604,  upon  the  fifth  day  of 
November,  called  the  Powder  Treason  day,  and  at  that  very 
hour  of  the  day  wherein  the  Parliament  should  have  been 
blown  up  by  the  Popish  priests;"  which  induced  his  father  to 
give  him  this  name,  Thomas,  "  because,  he  said,  I  would  hardly 
believe  (an  allusion  to  the  scepticism  of  the  apostle  Thomas) 
that  ever  any  such  wickedness  should  be  attempted  by  men 
■gainst  so  religious  and  good  a  Parliament."  As  it  is  certtun 
thai  the  famous  Powder  Plot  was  contrived,  if  contrived 
in  1605,  and  was  to  have  been  executed  on  the  tifth  day  of  No- 


i 


LIPB   OF   TROU-ve   SHEPAKD.  XIII 

e  obliged  to  place  Mr.  Sfaepard's  birth  in  this  jtae 
■nd  (in  this  day,  DolwilhsUDding  the  contradictoty  date  with 
trhich  be  begins  hi«  account  of  hiiDEetf ;  for  it  is  more  lILely 
jU  he  sboald  have  forgotten,  at  the  moment  of  writing,  the  ex- 
*  date  of  the  Powder  Flol,  than  the  fuel,  —  m  indissolubly  aa- 
cialed  with  his  name, — that  according  to  the  family  record 
■od  tradition,  he  was  born  at  the  very  hour  when  the  Farlia- 
t  was  to  have  been  blown  up  by  gunpowder. 
The  father  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir,  William  8hep- 
•rd.  was  born  in  Fossecul,  a  small  town  near  Toweester. 
4  bred  to  the  busincMi  of  a  grocur  by  a  Mr.  Bland,' 
who^  daughter  he  married,  and  by  whom  he  had  nine 
diildren:  three  »ons,  John,  William,  and  Thomas;  and  six 
Akughlers,  Ann.  Margaret.  Hilary,  Elizabeth,  Hester,  and  Sarah. 
B  to  have  been  a  wise,  prudent,  and  peace-loving  man; 
t,  Isward  the  close  of  Wis  life,  very  prosperoae  ia  bis  busi- 
Thal  he  was  also  a  godly  man,  in  the  sense  in  which  the 
Furitans  u«ed  that  phrase,  appears  from  the  fact  that  be  re- 
■Mtved  to  Banbury,  in  Oxfordshire,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  so- 
Joying  the  light  of  an  evangelic&l  and  eflTective  ministry — k 
Mewing  which,  it  seems,  could  not  be  had  at  Towoester.  A 
trortdly  man,  or  a  mere  formalist  in  religion,  was  not  likely  to 
Hrrifice  his  temporal  interests  in  order  to  promote  the  welfare 
•f  lii«  tovl.  DOT  leave  a  quiet  and  respectable  establishment, 
e  tlie  Kngiish  chuteh,  for  such  preaching  as  was  at  that  time 

I  from  Puritan  pulpits. 
In  the  early  (raining  and  ultimate  development  and  formation 
r  *  man's  mind,  the  character  Hnd  inllueiice  of  his  mother  arev 
r  pr««mifient  importance.  The  seed  that  is  lo  germinate  and 
tar  frail  in  taature  life,  is  ordinarily  planted  by  the  maternal 
lund  dnring  the  Urct  years  of  childhood.  The  influence  which 
b  lo  MrrouDd  tlie  growing  intellei-i  liki.-  un  atmosphere,  and  act 
•pon  it  at  every  stage  of  its  ]>rogre»«,  flows  most  frc<{ucntly 
fimn  the  bear!  ne*r  which  the  young  immortal  has  been  nour- 
Utti ;  and  bsppy  is  the  child  who  can  remember  nothing  earlier 
•  looks,  tones,  prayers,  and  tears  which  ore  the  natural 


MIT  LIFE   OF  TUOMAa    Sllt|-ARU. 

expressions  o£  mfttcrnnl  piety.  They  can  never  be  forgolten ; 
and  amidst  llic  most  powerful  temptations,  and  tlie  i?ildeat  con- 
flicts of  passion,  they  throng  around  the  soul  with  warning  and 
beseeching  voice,  to  withdraw  il  from  danger,  or  lo  awaken  it  to 
repentance.  AugUBlino  acknowledged  that  he  owed  his  conver- 
sion, under  God,  to  the  tears  and  prayei's  of  his  mother ;  and 
Cecil  says  that  be  should  have  been  an  inGdcl,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  the  quiet  but  perpetual  influence  of  her  wbom  be  loved  above 
all  other  beings.  Mr.  Shepard  was  blessed  with  a  pious  mother,'' 
She  was  a  woman  of  a  tender  and  affectionate  dispoaition,  and 
"  much  afflieted  in  conscience,  soraetimca  even  unto  distraction," 
but  she  WHS  "  sweetly  recovetvd,"  and  passed  her  latter  days  in 
(he  enjoyment  of  mental  serenity  and  religious  peace.  She 
prayed  much  for  her  children,  and  especially  for  Thomas,  "  her 
youngest  and  best  beloved,"  upon  whose  mind  she  lieema  to  have 
left  the  impress  of  her  gentle  and  pious  spirit,  as  well  as  of  her 
tender  nod  scrupulous  conscience,  which  were  its  most  distin- 
guishing charaoteristicB  in  after  life.  She  died  when  Thomas 
was  about  four  years  old ;  but  young  as  he  was,  he  was  sensible 
of  the  "  exceeding  love  "  which  she  felt  for  him,  and  during  the 
darker  season  which  followed,  he  remembered  her  wiib  a  corre- 
sponding affection. 

When  Tbomaa  was  about  three  years  of  age,  be  was  sent  to 
■'  reside  with  bis  grandparents  at  Foseecut,  in  order  to  avoid  an 
epidemic  disease  which  had  begun  lo  prevail  at  Towccsler,  and 
soon  swept  away  several  members,  sisters  as  well  as  ser\'ants, 
from  his  father's  family.  Fosaecut  was  a  small,  obscure,  and 
wicked  place  —  ■' a  most  blind  town  and  corner."  The  aged 
grandfather  and  grandmother,  though  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances as  to  temporal  matters,  were  very  ignorant,  and,  as 
we  should  naturally  infer  from  the  manner  in  which  they  dealt 
with  the  little  boy  committed  lo  their  care,  very  irreligious 
people ;  for  here  he  was  "  put  to  keep  geese,  and  other  such 
country  work,"  all  the  while  much  neglected  by  those  who 
should  have  watched  over  bini.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before 
he  was  removed  from  the  influence  of  his  grandparents,  probably 


I 


I.IFR    OF  TBOUAS   SHEP&RT>.  IV 

coiurqiicncc  of  this  ne;;1ect,  lo  the  family  of  hie  unci?,  at  -^ 
Adlhrop,  nn  ailjoining  town.  The  change  seems  to  have  been 
much  for  ihe  better  ;  for  Adlhrop  was  '■  n  little  blind  town ; " 
vhile  he  there  received  more  atrenlion,  and  was  somewhat 
ipier  and  more  conlenled,  he  learned  to  "'  sing  and  sporl  as 
,id)ildrcn  did  in  tliose  parlfi,  and  to  dance  at  tlieii-  Whitsun-AIcs,"  /'  | 
which  were  far  more  peinieiuus  to  childhood''/  | 
**  keeping  geese,  ami  other  Bu<:h  country  work."  For 
c  not  the  innocent  playa  and  recreations  of  chiU 
ig  lliemselves,  which  all  persons,  even  the  Puritans, 
and  gloomy  as  lliey  are  (folsely)  represented  lo  have 
must  have  approved  ;  hut  those  demoralizing  wakes,  mor-v 
aoea,  May  games,  revels,  ett.,  recommended  and  sanctioned  i 
bj  ihMt  abomination,  "  The  Book  of  tjportg."  which  James  I., 
and  tAer  him  Charles,  "  out  of  a  pious  care  for  the  Eervice  of 
God."  and  desiring,  with  lilial  reverence,  to  "  ratify  his  blessed 
fiHfaer'i  decloro^oD,"  ordered  to  be  read  in  all  the  churches,  for 
fbe  "  encouragement  of  recreations  on  the  Lord's  day."  The 
on  people  were  fond  of  these  sports  i  but  the  Puritans,  and 
liie  more  serioua  portion  of  [he  community  generally,  regarded 
tliein  with  strong  di«ap probation,  not  only  as  grossly  profaning 
ihe  Sabbath,  but  as  being  Ihe  fiMiitful  source  of  drunkenness, 
debauchery,  cunteraiit  of  authority,  quarrels,  and  even  murders ; 
effbrls  were  made,  from  time  to  lime,  by  the  justices  of  peace, 
to  have  them  suppressed,  as  highly  prejudicial  to  the  pence  and 
goTernmenl  of  the  country.'  It  is  not  strange,  therefore, 
Shepard,  in  mature  life,  should  have  looked  hack  upon  hia 
fly  childhood,  in  which  he  was  exposed  to  the  eormpting  in- 
of  these  sports,  as  a  season  of  pefidjpr  danger,  front 
bs  was  mercifully  delivered  by  a  kind  Providence. 

tbomts  returned  again  lo  his  father's  house,  which  he 

tin  ouisc  of  his  removal  from  home  hod  passed  by,  h« 

diingi  changed,  or  fast  changing,  for  the  worse.     His 

"ieut  mother"  was  dead,  or  died  very  soon  after  his  return. 


•  N«ai,  Bisl.  pDTiL  iL  U9. 


«n  LIFE  OF  THOMAS   SHEPARD. 

TTip  sister  Margarel,  wbo  was  very  fond  of  Itiii>,  iDBrricd  her 
father's  clerk.  Hia  sister  Atin  was  lunrrieil  to  a  Mr.  Far- 
mer. And  to  Gil  tip  the  measure  of  liU_  griefs,  his  fitiher  mar- 
ried a  second  wile,  who  soon  made  him  aware  of  the  dilTerence 
between  hb  "  own  niollier  and  a  slep-raolher."  She  evidently 
did  not  love  ihe  little  motherless  boj,  aud  endeavored  to  in- 
cense his  father  against  him ;  "  it  may  be,"  says  Shepurd, 
meekly,  *'  that  it  was  justly  so,  for  roy  childishness."  The  neg- 
lect at  grandfather's,  and  the  "  Whitstin-Ales,"  at  the  "  Wind 
little  town  "  of  Adthrop,  may  have  rendered  ihe  forlorn  child 
somewhat  wayward  and  troublcBome :  but  the  probability  is  that 
the  Btep-mother  magnified  and  misrepresented  every  fault  of  the 
orphan,  that  her  own  little  Samuel  might  enjoy  a  lai^r  share 
of  his  father's  atfeciion. 

After  safiering  under  this  domestic  tyranny  for  some  time,  he 
was  Bent  to  the  free  school  in  Toweesler.  But  this  was  to  him 
the  school  of  "  one  Tyrannus,"  or  of  "  Ajas  Flagel lifer."  The 
master,  whose  name  was  Rice,  a  Welshman,  was  very  severe 
had  irriiAhle  ;  and  he  treated  the  poor  boy  with  sneh  harahnesa 
tuid  cruelty,  as  to  extinguish,  for  the  time,  all  love  of  learning, 
and  to  make  him  opflen  wish  that  he  might  be  a  "keeper  of 
hogs  "  rather  than  a  scholar.  "  Bears,"  says  Pliny,  "  are  the 
falter  for  beating."  But  this  is  not  always  or  altogether  true 
of  boys,  especially  of  such  boys  as  Thomas  Shepard,  who,  it  is 
presumed,  rarely  needed  chastisement,  and  was  more  likely  lo 
be  injured  than  benefited  by  severity-^  "The  fierce,  Orbiliun 
way  of  treating  children,  too  commonly  used  in  schocJs,  is  a 
dreadful  curse  of  God  upon  our  miserable  offspring,  who  are 
bom  '  children  of  wrath.' "  It  b  boaslcd  now  and  then  of  a 
schoolmaster,  that  such  and  such  a  brave  man  had  his  education 
under  him.  There  is  nothing  said,  how  many  that  might  have 
been  brave  men  have  been  destroyed  by  him  ;  how  many  brave 
wits  have  been  dispirited,  confounded,  mnrdered  by  his  barba- 
nras  way  of  managing  them.  If  a  fault  must  be  punished,  let 
instruction,  both  unto  the  delinquent  and  unto  the  spectator, 
accompany  the  correction.     Let  the  odious  nature  of  the  sin 


LIFE   or  TH0MA9    BREPARD.  XVU 

thai  ban  enforced  the  correclioa  be   declared,  and  let  nothing    i 
be  doDe  in  a  passion  ;  let  all  be  done  with  all  llie  evidence  of  -J 
ii)[>assion  tliat  may  be.* 

WilliaiD  Shepard  —  the   father  —  died   when  Thomas  was 
about  ten  ^rear.t  of  age.     During  hU  last  sickness,  which  was  "^ 
■hort  and  very  distre^ing,  the  oppresse^d  and  dispirited  child, 
whom  life  had  begun  lo  present  its  slemest  realities,  prayed 
a^ionalely  for  his  recovery ;  and  he  made  a  solemn  resolution 
serve  God  better  llian  he  had  dune,  if  his  prayers  might  bo 
Ms*cered ;  "  as  knowing  that  1  shoulil  be  left  alone  if  he  were 
Yet  the  Lord  look  liiro  nway  by  death,  and  I  was  left 
ftihertess  and  molbcrless,  when    I  was  about  ten  years  old." 
It  is  not  lo  be  inferred  from  these  prayers,  that  at  this  early  age 
be  entertained   any  hope  that  he  was  a  Christian  ;   for  children 
*ho  have  been  retigioufly  educated  will  often,  under  tlie  press- 
ure of  aflliclion,  pray  very  earneally  for  relief;  but  from  the 
ftcl  that  he  made  a  solemn  covenant  *'  to  serve  God  hrUtr"  if 
father  might  recover,  we  may  presume  that  he  had  been 
tnder  Tfry  serious  impressions,  and  had   tried  to  maintain  a 
kind  of  religion  in  his  life. 

Upon  the  death  of  his  father,  he  was  committed  lo  the  care  of 

I  ^tIie£4o?[AWj^  who,  in  eoDside ration  of  his  portion  of  one     ' 

bundrvd  pounda,  agreed  to  maintain  and  educate  him.      But  he 

■u  still  doomed  lo  be   "much  neglected,"   and  to  feel  more 

keenly  than  ever  ihe  difference  between  his  "own  mother  and  a 

Ms|»-inotbcr."     She,  as  was  to  have  been  expected  from  her 

pivTious  conduct,  proved  faithless  to  her  trust ;   and  at  lust  his 

htMber  Jolin  —  William  being  now  dead  —  offered  lo  lake  him, 

tad,  for  tlw  use  of  his  portion,  to  bring  him  up  o-i  his  own  diild. 

And  HO  1  lived  witJi  this  my  eldest  brother,  wlio  showed  much 

ire  unto  me,  and  unto  whom  I  owe  much ;  for  biin  God  made 

I  \m  both  father  and  mother  unio  me." 

About  this  time  the  cruel  Welsh  scbootmasler  died,  and  was 
In  the  school  by  a  man  of  latenls  and  of  reputed  piety, 


*  Ewari  to  4a  Oood   pp.  I'i.  I't. 


IVm  LIFE    OF   TB0MA3   SnErARI). 

who  WHS  ftbo  employed  to  officiate  as  the  minister  of  the  town. 
Although  he  difiappoinled  the  expectationB  of  the  people  with 
respect  to  his  piety,  and  afterwarda  became  an  "apo^lnle  and 
an  enemy  of  all  right  eons  ne^e,"  he.  seems  to  have  been  an  able 
teacher  ;  for  he  succeeded  in  reviving  or  awakening  in  the  mind 
of  young  Shepard  —  who  had  conceived  such  a  disgust  of  study 
that  be  had  rather  "  keep  hoga  or  beasts  than  go  to  school  and 
learn"  —  a  love  of  application,  and  a  strong  desire  to  be  a 
scholar.  Under  this  new  stimulus,  he  applied  himself  with  great 
diligence  to  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages,  in  which  he  made 
rapid  progre^.  He  was  studious,  because  he  was  "ambitious 
of  being  a  scholar,"  and  of  enjoying  "  the  honor  of  learning." 
At  the  same  time  he  seems-  to  have  been,  to  a  certain  extent, 
influenced  by  some  higher,  if  not  a  truly  religious  motive ;  for 
once,  when  he  was  unsuccessful  in  taking  notes  of  the  sermon, 
he  was  troubled  about  it,  and  "prayed  tha  Lord  earnestly " 
for  assiatance  in  this  exercise  ;  a  fact  which,  at  lea«t,  indicates 
a  deep  sense  of  his  dependence  upon  God  for  success  in  his 
studies,  and  a  feeling  that-  he  was  bound  to  seek  the  honor 
which  Cometh  from  above,  as  well  as  the  "  honor  of  learning." 
But  whatever  his  ruling  passion  might  have  been,  and  what- 
ever may  be  inferred  as  to  his  religious  state  at  this  lime, 
from  his  general  serionsness,  we  know  that  he  devoted  him- 
self to  the  necessary  studies  with  such  diligence,  and  was 
enabled  to  make  such  progress  in  them,  that  before  be  had 
reached  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  was  pronounced  by  competent 
judges  to  be  fit  for  the  university. 


b 


LIFE   OP   THOUAS    SBEFABD. 


CHAPTER   II. 


Mr.  BhcpMd  enten  Emmanuel  Collc^.  Cambridge. —  Derotes  himielf  U> 
hard  Mudy.  —  NeglecM  religion.  —  Bcmmca  proud  of  a  tittle  learning.  — 
Rat  ibe  imall-pox.  —  Kflecl  of  Dr.  Cbaddenon'i  proocbing.  —  ABSocialu 
wiib  disiipatcd  foung  men.  —  Remonstrated  with  bj  religiouB  friendi. — 
Foils  into  a  gross  bid, —  Effect  of  this  niii  upon  his  coaideoce.  —  Dr. 
Prefion.  —  Dopp  conricliont.  —  Dislrefaiug  tempiationa.  —  Di-spnir. — 
Dawning  of  ligbl.  —  I^ler  W  a  friend.  —  Incivaiing  light.  —  Change 
rf  Hft.  —  Pmob  of   mind,  —  Applicaiioa   to  Mudj.  —  Graduates   with 

Thk  brother  of  Mr.  ShepnrtI,  having  undertaken  the  care  of 
Vacation,  waa  Anxious  to  send  him  to  college.  But  prohn- 
bU  the  expense  of  a  collegiate  course  exceeded,  at  that  time, 
kis  pecuniary  means ;  and  the  portion  of  one  hundred  pounda, 
which  he  had  the  use,  would  hardly  defray  the  charges  of  a 
residence  at  either  of  Ibe  nnivcn^iliej*.  At  this  moment,  go 
rritkal  anil  decisive  in  the  life  of  the  almost  friendless  scholar, 
Vt.  Cockcrill,  a  fellow  of  Kmtnaiiuel  College.  Cambridge,  and  V*^ 
■  Raii*e  of  Nonliamptonshire,  came  to  Northampton  upon  a 
Tuit  to  hU  friends  ;  and  having  Mttisfied  himself,  by  a  penonal 
I  cxamtnatioii,  that  Shepnrd  was  worthy  of  patronage,  encouraged  I 
bia  brother  to  send  him  lo  Cambridge,  promising  to  use  his  in-  I 
flaence  there  in  bis  behalf.  Other  persons,  connected  with  the 
aniTenity,  interested  themselves  in  this  application,  and  altbongh 
he  was,  in  his  own  opinion,  "very  raw  and  young,"  he  was 
sdmitted  lo  Emmanuel  College  &9  a  pensioner  in  the  year  1G19.  / 
I>imng  the  early  part  of  his  college  course,  Sir.  Cockerill,  who 
had  K>  kindly  encouraged  and  befriended  bim,  was  his  tutor. 
Thus  this  chosen  vessel,  forsaken  of  father  and  mother,  and 
«act  helpless  upon  the  world  was,  by  "  a  secret  band  of  Prov- 
idmice,"  taken  out  of  "  that  profane  and  ignorant  town  of 
TowciHler,"  the  "  worst  town,  I  think,  in  the  world,"  and 
{TMioiisly  provided  for  in  Cambridge,  "the  best  place  for  knowl- 
•dx«   and    learning."    where    liv     was    prepared,   by    a    Mvera 


tX  LIFE   OP  THOMAS    SlIEPARn. 

discipline,  for  an  arduous  and  important  Gervice  in  (be  diurch 
of  God. 

Up  lo  tliis  period,  although  be  seems  lo  have  been  at  times 
deeply  serious,  and  lo  Iiave  been  in  the  httbit  of  praying 
frequently  under  the   pressure  of  affliction,  he  was   evidently 

'  destilulc  of  a  saving  knowledge  of  llie  truth.  During  the  firpt 
two  years  of  his  college  life  he  devoted  himself  to  hard  study, 
greatly  neglecting  religion  and  the  practice  of  secret  prayer, 
(irhiub  be  bad  billierlo  observed.)  except  at  times,  when  bis 
early  religious  impressions  revived  with  considcraUe  force,  and 
he  was  induced  to  pay  eoma  attention  to  the  concerns  of  his 
BOul.  The  effect  of  a  little  learning  was  what  is  oflen  wit- 
nessed upon  minds  of  his  order.  When  in  his  third  year  he/ 
became  sophister,  he  began  lo  be  ''  foolish  and  proud,"  and  to' 
~  exhibit  himself  in  public  as  a  dispuler  about  things  which 
he  afterwards  saw  he  "  did  not  then  know  at  all,  but  only 
prated  abou(  them."  Time  and  more  learning  corrected  tliis 
folly,  and  made  bim  one  of  the  humiilesi,  as  be  was  one  of 
the  dcvoulest  of  men.  It  would  be  well  if  he  bad  more  im- 
itators in  the  feelings  with  which  be  looked  back  upon  this 
stage  of  his  intellectual  development.  ''  There  is  noLliing 
more  lamentable,"  says  Luther,  in  hia  Table  Talk,  "  than  the 
pride  and  ambition  of  many  young  preachers,  who  wish  lo 
shine  as  logicians,  rhetoricians,  etc.,  and  become  so  finical  and 
obscure  in  their  preaching,  tliat  neither  the  people  nor  them- 
selves know  what  tliey  are  about.  A  young  lawyer,  in  hia 
first  year,  is  a  Justinian  ;  in  his  second  year  he  is  a  doctor; 
in  the  third  a  licentiate  i  in  the  fourth  a  bachelor ;  in  the  ttfth 
a  student." 

But  Mr.  Shcpard  was  not  left  lo  neglect  the  interests  of  his 
soul  in  his  ambition  to  shine  as  a  scholur  and  a  "dispater  of  this 
world."     In  his  second  year  lie  was  brought  near  lo  the  grave 

■i  by  the  small-pox,  which  had  awakened  him,  in  some  measure,  lo 
a  senate  of  his  guilt  and  danger.  The  preaching  of  Dr.  Chad- 
derlon,  the  master  of  Emmanuel  College,  especially  upon  a 
taorsment    day,  also    produced    a   deep    impression    upon    his 


LIFE   OF  TBOHAS    SHEPARD.  XXI 

nind.  And  a  few  moatha  aAervards  he  heard  Itlr.  Dickinson, 
I  tlie  chH]iel,  disururee  upon  the  words,  "  I  will  not  destroy  it 
'.tor  (en's  sidie,"  nith  a  poweri'ul  elfect  upon  hifl  ciHi»;ience.  But 
•se  serious  impre^ions  gradually  disappeared,  and  he  unfor- 
lalel;  fell  inlo  ihe  society  of  (tome  dissipated  young  men,  who  ' 
•ndeavored  to  cuuoieract  and  destroy  all  the  influence  of  those 
pioiis  preachers.  He  even,  for  a  time,  went  with  them  in  their 
time-waxting  and  soul-deetroying  funusemente  and  pleaxures, 
Btid  seemetl  fast  making  shipwreck  of  faith  and  a  good  con- 
■cicnce.  But  he  waa  not  suffered  to  continue  long  in  this 
ihoaghtleM  stale.  Upon  one  occasion,  a  pioua  student,  with 
whom  he  chanced  to  bo  walking,  described  to  him  "  the  misery 
of  •Everyman  out  of  Christ,"  and  faithfully  admonished  lum  of 
Us  guilt  and  danger.  This  awakened,  and  tor  a  litne  checked 
in  bis  course  of  folly  and  ein.  At  another  time  he  happened 
kt  be  present  when  several  pious  persona  were  conversing  upon 
B  wratb  of  God,  revealed  from  heaven  against  all  unrighteous- 
M  and  ungodliness  of  men,  which  they  spoke  of  under  the 
pn  of  a  consuming  fire,  intolerable  and  eternal.  This  conver- 
tioa  revived  and  slrcngibeoed  the  solemn  impressions  which  had 
boeo  previously  made  upon  his  mind,  and  led  him  to  resume  the 
pncUc«  of  lecret  prayer,  as  a  means  of  escaping  from  that  wralli 
to  come  which  he  so  much  feared. 

Bui  be  had  not  yet  seen  the  evil  of  his  heart,  nor  fell  that  \. 
•Onvktion  of  sin  whit^h  prostralea  the  soul  before  the  throne  of 
|rac«  in  godly  sorrow  that  worketh  repentance  unto  life.  The 
•fioct  of  the  conversations  referred  to  soon  wore  off,  as  other 
at  impressions  bad  done,  until  an  event  occurred  which 
nvived  Ihem  all  with  overwhelming  force,  and  made  him  feel, 
w  be  had  never  felt  before,  the  need  of  nioning  blood  to  cleanse 
him  from  all  sin.  The  sin  of  Peter,  and  ils  imtuediale  effect,  are 
kft  upon  ihe  sacred  record  to  show  us  the  depth  to  which  men 
nuy  fall  if  left  to  themselves,  —  to  encourage  the  penitent  sinner 
to  rvtnrit  with  tears  to  the  Saviour  against  whom  he  has  sinned, 
—and  to  exhibit  the  riches  of  divine  grace,  which  can  rescue  tlie 
J  fron  the  deepest  degradation  ;  and  for  the  same  reasons  we 


XMi  LIFE   OF  TllOMAiS    rtHF-PAIin. 

record  the  fact  wlncti  fuilows,  earnestly  nilmonishing  tlie  rentier 
to  beware  of  using  ii  as  nn  enirouragement  to  sin,  lest  liiii  "  bands 
be  made  strong,"  and  repentance  be  liirl  from  hia  eyes.  Aa  the 
fears  which  had  been  awakened  by  tbe  solemn  addresaea  of  his 
pious  fiienda  gradually  aubaided,  Shepard  again  a-isocialed  with 
the  loose  and  disaipated  students  of  Iiis  own  and  of  other  colleges, 
and  frequently  joined  ibera  in  ihcir  intemperate  carousBls  j  un- 
til, at  length,  upon  a  Suturday  night,  be  drunk  so  freely  that 
he  became  groaaly  intoxicated,  and  was  carried,  in  a  stale  of 
insensibility,  to  the  chambers  of  a  student  of  Christ's  Col- 
lege,  where  he  awoke  lo  consciousness  late  on  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, sick,  and  completely  prostrated  from  the  effects  of  this 
debauch. 

The  moral  impression  of  tt  fall  like  this  is  very  different 
upon  different  persons.  Some  of  those  dissolute  young  men, 
probably,  thought  of  that  night's  excess  only  as  a  matter  to  he 
laughed  about  at  their  nest  convivial  meeting.  Not  ao  with 
Sliepnrd.  Filled  with  confusion  and  shame  by  the  recollec- 
,  lion  of  his  "  beastly  carriage,"  he  hurried  away  into  llie  fields, 
and  there  hid  himself,  during  the  whole  of  ihnt  dreadful  Sabbath, 
from  every  eye  but  that  oi'  God.  Tlie  particular  sin,  however, 
which  made  him  afraid,  and  drove  him,  like  Adam,  into  con- 
ceahnent,  not  only  awakened  him  to  pungent  sorrow  for  this  act, 
but  opened  his  eyes  to  see  the  exceeding  sinfiilncss  of  hia  whole 
life,  and  tbe  necessity  of  repentance  fur  all  his  sins.  It  was  a 
day  long  to  be  remembered,  for  it  was  the  commencement  of  a 
new  life.  In  thai  solitude,  where  he  lay  trembling  like  a  culprit, 
"  the  Lord,  who  might  justly  have  cut  me  off  in  the  midst  of  my 
sin,  did  meet  me  with  much  sadness  of  heart,  and  troubled  my 
Eoul  for  this  and  other  sms,  which  then  I  bad  leisure  lo  think 
of,  and  made  me  resolve  to  set  upon  a  course  of  daily  medita- 
tion about  the  evil  of  ain  and  my  own  waye."  Let  those  who 
are  disposed  lo  speak  lightly  or  scornfully  of  the  early  trana- 
gressiona  of  eminent  Christians,  remember  tlie  bitter  tears  with 
which  they  were  hunented  and  nbandonedx^ 

But  with  all  this  trouble  of  mind,  and  compunction  o 


ILIFK 
tf  actual  sins,  lie  bud  not  yet  olilatned  a  true  aelt'-knowK-ilge,  nor 
seen  llie  lii<ld<-n  evils  of  liis  heart.  To  llii»  derpt^r  and  clearer 
■Tiew  of  liiiaseir  as  a  sinner,  be  was  led  by  llie  preaching  of  Dr.^, 
4*reston,  one  of  the  most  able  llteologians  and  preachers  of  " 
Ua  time,  who  became  ma<<ter  of  Emmanuel  College  in  1622. 
Siiepard,  littaring  the  preaching  of  Dr.  Preston  spoken  of  as 
**nMMt  «pirilual  and  escelleni,"  by  8iLmuel  Stone  and  others, 
Iklened  Mtenlirclj'  to  the  instructions  of  this  celebrated  divine, 
hoping  to  find  here  that  guidance  In  [he  nay  of  right eonsness 
which  he  eo  much  needed.  The  first  sermon  which  he  heard 
from  Dr.  Preston  was  upon  the  words,  "  Be  ye  transformed  by 
t  renewing  of  your  mind,"  (Rom.  xii.  2 ;)  in  which  the  nature 
«f  a  cliMige  of  heart  was  clearly  unfolded.  Under  this  dis- 
se,  "  the  Lord  so  bored  my  ears  ns  that  I  under.'lood  what 
ke  spnke ;  the  secrets  of  my  soul  were  laid  open  before  mo, 
I  the  by|>ocrisy  of  (vll  the  good  things  I  thought  I  had  in 
,  u  if  one  hod  told  him  of  all  that  ever  I  did  —  of  all  the 
■irnings  and  deceits  of  my  hcnrt."  So  clearly  wns  ho  made 
lO  see  himself,  —  his  secret  sins  —  the  whole  frame  and  temper 
if  his  mind,  —  that  he  thought  Dr.  Preston  the  "  most  search- 
ing preacher  in  the  world;"  and  with  profound  gratitude  to 
Bod,  Mid  love  for  the  preacher,  he  began  in  earnest  to  seek 
1^  thnt  mdical  conversion  luid  renewal,  the  nature  of  which 
bwl  b««n  to  clearly  exhibited  to   him.  I 

This  new  birth,  however,  wad  not  to  be  for  Shcpurd,  as  it  v 
I|ipau9  In  b<?  ill  some  cases,  a  speedy  or  an  easy  work.  Many 
jma*  from  a  stale  of  sin  and  coni  1cm nation  to  tho  light,  liberty, 
ini)  hope  uf  llie  children  of  God,  in  such  n  way  that  their 
irlu^  ex[ierience  in  relation  to  this  change  may  be  expressed  in 
he  irurdi  of  the  blind  man  whom  the  .Sa\'iour  suddenly  luid 
tf  n  miisculuus  touch  restored  lo  sight  —  "Whereas  I  was 
blind,  now  I  »ee."  But  Shepard's  conviction  of  sin  had  been 
BMwdlogly  pungent  and  distressing,  and  his  progress  lo  a  state 
F  nctmciliatiuD  and  pence  with  Ood  was  rough,  protracted,  and 
tiBfnL  Uo  was  beset  with  fi;ars  of  death  and  "  the  terrors 
r  Ood's  wrath."      In  tii-  daily  mfdiliiiion,  "constantly  every 


XXlV  LIFE   Of   THOMAS   SHEPAKU. 

evening  before  supper,"  he  found  the  Lord  ever  teaching 
faim  eoraelhing  concerning  himself,  or  ibe  divine  law,  or  the 
vanity  of  the  world,  which  he  never  aaw  before,  and  which 
'filled  him  with  perplexity  and  overwhelming  aolieilude.  He 
was  also  assaulted  by  sharp  i«mpiations.  At  one  time  he  felt 
"  a  depth  of  atheism  and  unbelief  in  the  main  malters  of  sal- 
vation,"—  whether  the  Scriptures  were  the  word  of  God, — 
whether  Christ  was  the  Messiah,  —  whether  there  was  a  God. 
At  another  time  he  "  felt  all  manner  of  temptations  lo  sU 
kinds  of  religions,  not  knowing  which  lo  chooae."  At  last  he 
heard  of  Griodleton,  and  was  in  danger  of  falling  iolo  Fcr- 
fcctioniein,  Faroilism,  Antinomianism,  or  whatever  that  system 
was  called  which  ^lerwards  made  such  havoc  in  the  infant 
churches  of  New  England.  He  did  not  really  adopt  or  believe 
any  of  the  absurd  doctrines  of  the  Familiels,  hut  only  went  so 
far  in  these  "  miserable  fluctunlions  and  straits  of  his  soul " 
as  to  question  "  whether  that  glorious  state  of  perfection  might 
not  be  the  truth,"  and  whether  old  Mr.  Rogers's  "  Seven  Trea- 
tises," and  the  "  Practice  of  Christianity,"  —  books  which  were 
then  esteemed  as  containing  very  sound  theology,  —  "  might  not 
be  legal,"  and  these  writers  "-  legal  men  ;  "  a  singular  hallucina- 
tion, from  which  he  was  soon  delivered  by  reading  in  one  of  the 
Familist  books  the  astounding  doctrine,  that  a  Christian  is  so 
swallowed  up  in  the  spirit,  "-  that  what  action  soever  the  spirit 
moves  him  lo  commit,  suppose  adultery,  he  may  do  it,  and  it  is 
DO  sin  to  hun."  This  passage,  like  an  overdose  of  poison, 
operated  exactly  contrary  to  its  nature  and  design.  Tempted  as 
he  was  to  "all  kinds  of  religion,"  he  could  not  digest  this  doc- 
trine of  devils;  and  the  horrible  absurdity  of  the  proposition 
awakened  in  him  an  intense  abhorrence  of  the  whole  system  to 
which  it  belonged,  which  in  after  years,  and  in  more  critical  times, 
'  rendered  him  a  most  determined  and  successful  opposer  of  An- 
tinomianism, as  we  shall  see  in  the  progress  of  this  biagni|>hy. 
'  In  the  mean  time,  the  other  temptations  by  which  he  was  led 
(o  doubt  the  genuineness  of  Christ's  miracles,  and,  in  short,  the 
troth  of  divine  revelation,  continued  with  unabated,  if  not  with 


L1F£   OK   TUOUAS   SUtt'AKU.  XXV 

increasing,  severity ;  so  ihst,  at  IfUt,  Laving  questioned  whether 
Christ  (lid  not  cast  out  devils  by  Beelzebub,  he  conceived  the 
dreadful  idea  that  he  had  committed  the  unpardonable  sio,  bh^^,--^ 
was  BbandoDed  to  hopeless  apostasy  and  destruction.  And  now, 
the  terrors  of  God  began  to  break  in,  like  floods  of  fire,"  into 
kis  eouL  He  saw,  as  he  then  thought,  in  these  rebellious 
double,  and  in  this  chaotic  darkness  of  mind,  the  fruits  of  "  God's 
CKriiat  reprobation,"  He  thouglit  of  God  as  "a  consuming  liru 
erlusiing  burning,"  and  liirostif  as  a  "  poor  prisoner, 
led  to  liial  tire."  And  these  thoughts  of  eternal  reprobation 
and  lurmunt  ao  distressed  tiim,  especially  ''  at  one  IJiue,  upon  a 
Sabbath  day,  at  evening,"  that  be  became  well  nigh  distracted,  . 
«nd  was  strongly  leinpled,  like  Judas,  to  anticipate  his  doom, 
d,  by  suicide,  hurry  to  his  own  place. 

During  eight  dark  and  dismal  months,  these  ■'  fiery  darts  of 
Llan  "  were  iocossanlly  burled  at  his  peace,  and  there  seemed  A 
lo  be  Qo  help  tor  his  poor  soul  in  Gud  or  man  ;  for  he  was  afrtiid 
«f  God,  and  was  ashamed  to  speak  of  these  things  to  any  ex- 
fnicDoed  Christian.     Three  things,  according  lo  Luther,  are     /■ 
••ccsmry   lo  form   a  theologion  —  namely,  study,   prayer,   and^ 
tcmptalioii.     And  doubtless  bUepurd's  gloomy  passage  through 
"  iloagh  of  despond  "  was  necessary  lo  );ive  him  a  clear  and 
iMB  aflecting  view  of  bis  misery  and  helplessness  as  a  sinner ; 
fix  more  linnly  in  his  mind  those  doctrines  which  he  was  sub- 
juontly  to  preach ;    lo  make  liim  humble    under  the  honor 
|h*t  awaited  him,  and  lo  fit  him  to  apply  tjic  promises  of  tlie 
judiciously  to  distressed  oousciences.     Like  Luther,  he 
t  llie  true  divinity  by  being  "hunted  into  the  Bible"  and 
,|p  the  llironc  of  grace ;  and  he  was  eminently  fitted  to  sympa- 
'Use  with  the  aflticied,   by  those  horrible  temptations   which 
bncMl  broke  bis  spirit  and  drove  him  to  despair.     At  ibe  same 
bie,  hi*  peculiar  experience,  both  in  his  descent  into  these 
deplfaf  of  Satan,"  and  in  the  manner  of  his  deliverance  from   •/ 
bem,  leuded  to  give  to  his  preaching  aitd  writings,  that  "  legal " 
ludi  there  will  be  occasion  to  speak  of  more  piulic- 
ilarljr  bareafter. 

VOL.  I.  c 


XXVI  Lll'K    OV   THOMAS   SUEPARD. 

His  conflicia  were  now  drawing  to  a  close,  and  ligUl  was  about 
lo  dispel  the  liorror  of  that  darkness  in  which  his  mind  had  hetn 
BO  long  shrouded.  When  he  was  at  the  worst,  not  knowing  what 
(o  do,  and  not  daring  lo  disdose  hia  feelings  lo  any  person,  it 
DFcurred  to  him  that  he  should  do  as  Christ  did  in  his  agony. 
"'The  Saviour  prayed  eameslly,  and  an  angel  came  dona  to  com- 
fort him ;  and  this  seemed  to  he  the  only  way  of  relief.  Shut 
up  to  this,  he  fell  down  in  agonizing  supplication,  and  "  being  in 
prayer,  1  saw  myself  so  unholy,  and  God  so  holy,  that  ray  spirit 
began  to  sink ;  yet  the  Lord  recovered  me,  and  poured  out  a 
spirit  of  prayer  upon  mc  for  free  mercy  and  pity ;  and  in  the 
conclusion  of  the  prayer,  I  found  the  Lord  helping  me  to  see 
my  unworthiness  of  any  mercy,  and  lo  leave  myself  with  him,  to 
do  with  me  what  he  would.  And  then,  and  never  till  then,  I 
found  rest;  and  so  my  heart  was  humbled,  nntf  I  went  with  a 
staid  heart  to  supper  late  that  nighl,  and  so  rested  here,  and 
the  terrors  of  the  Lord  began  to  assuage  sweetly." 

To  a  friend  who  afterwards  inquired  of  him  how  the  atheist- 
ical thoughts  which  had  torraenied  him  were  removed,  he  thus 
writes :  "  The  Lord  awakened  me,  and  bid  me  beware  lest  an 
old  sore  break  out  again.  And  this  I  found,  llmt  strength  of 
reason,  would  commonly  convince  my  understanding  that  there 
was  a  God ;  hut  I  felt  it  utterly  insufficient  lo  persuade  my  will 
of  il,  unless  it  was  by  lits,  when,  as  1  thought,  God's  Spirit  moved 
upon  the  chaos  of  thene  horrible  thoughts ;  and  lliis,  I  Ihink,  will 
be  found  a  truth.  I  did  groan  under  the  bondage  of  Ihose  un- 
believing thoughts,  looking  up  and  sighing  to  the  Lord,  that  if 
he  were  as  his  works  and  word  declared  him  to  be,  he  would 
please  to  reveal  himself  by  his  own  beams,  and  persuade  my 
heart,  by  his  own  Spirit,  of  his  essence  and  being,  which,  if  he 
would  do,  I  should  at^count  it  the  greatest  mercy  that  ever  he 
showed  me.  And,  after  grievous  and  heavy  perplexities,  when 
I  was  by  them  almost  forced  to  make  on  end  of  myself  and 
sinful  life,  and  to  be  my  own  executioner,  the  Lord  came  be- 
tween the  bridge  and  the  water,  and  set  me,  out  of  anguish  of 
apirit,  to  pray  unto  him  for  light  in  the  midst  of  so  great  dark- 


LIPE   or  THOMAS   SHEPAHD.  IXVU 

In  wbich  time,  he  revealed  himself,  manifested  his  love, 
Biillcd  all  ihoae  raging  thoughts,  io  that,  though  I  could  not  read 
the  Scripture  without  blasphemous  [houghtit  ticfore,  now  I  san  a 
glory,  n  majesty,  a  mystery, a  depth  in  it,  wbich  fully  persuaded; 
and  which  light  —  I  desire  to  speuk  it  to  ihe  glory  of  bis  free 
graee,  seeing  you  uUl  me  to  it  ^ — -is  not  wholly  put  out,  but 
mnains.  while  I  desire  to  walk  closely  with  him,  unto  this  day. 
Aud  thus  the  Lord  opened  my  eyes,  and  eured  me  of  my  mis- 
ery i  and  if  any  such  base  thoughts  come  (like  beggars  to  my 
d<x>r)  to  my  mind,  and  put  these  si-ruples  to  me,  I  used  to  send 
them  away  with  this  answer:  Why  should  1  question  that  truth 
which  I  have  both  known  and  seen  ?  "  *  i 

To  the  period  referred  to  in  this  extract  the  conversion  of  Mr. 
Shepard  must  be  assigned  i  but  he  did  not  at  once  obtain  full 
IKaurauce  and  a  settled  peace.     The  firm  earth  upon  which  lie 

at  length  landed  seemed  to  heave  under  him  like  the  stormy 

where  he  had  been  so  long  tossed,  and,  for  a  while,  he  walked 
unsteadily  and  with  fear.  When  his  distracting  doubts  and 
dreadful  apprehensions  of  God's  wrath  were  gone,  he  aiill  felt 
bit  on  worthiness,  his  bondage  to  self  and  the  world,  hia  unfltneatt 
for  Any  good  work,  and  was  oppressed  with  the  dread  of  losing 
what  God  had  already  wrought  in  him.  Bui  walking,  on  one 
OCouion,  in  the  fielda,  ''  the  Lord  dropped  this  meditation  "  into 
lua  mind,  with  a  distinctness  and  force  which  made  it  appear 

ist  like  an  address:  "  Be  not  discouraged  because  iliou  art  eo 
Tile,  but  mnke  tliis  double  use  of  it :  flr^t,  loathe  thyself  the  more ; 
•Hondly,  feel  a  greater  need,  and  put  a  grenicr  price,  upon 
Jctuii  Christ,  who  only  can  redeem  tliee  from  uU  sin."  This 
tboaght  greatly  encouraged  him,  and  he  wos  thus  enabled  to 
*  bi»t  Smai)  with  hia  own  weapons." 

Hi«  outward  life  was  now  wliotly  changed.     He   abstained 
hm  all  appearance  of  evil.     He  no  longer  associated  with  the  y( 
py  and  the  l^boughtlesa  ;  and  be  felt  it  to  he  his  duly,  not  only  to 

bit  an  example  of  holy  living,  but  to  labor  in  all  apprt^riata 

•  Beloct  Cmdi  It«iolre<I,  pp  n,  45, 


(/ways  for  the  conversion  of  his  rdlow-stu dents.  So  much  progresa 
he  bad  made  without  anj  direct  assistance  from  hnman  instruct- 
ora,  and  witliout  ol)taining  any  a<»urance  of  his  pardon  and 
acceptance  with  God.  He  had  been  working  out  his  salvation 
with  fear  and  trembling,  alone ;  and  although  his  face  was 
toward  Zton,  and  his  feet  in  the  tray  of  the  divine  precepts,  he 
needed,  like  Apollos,  that  some  one  should  expound  unio  him 
the  way  of  God  more  perfectly,  and  (o  lead  him  lo  take  those 
views  of  Christ,  and  of  his  redemptive  work,  which  were  neces- 
sary lo  a  cheerful  hope,  and  an  appropriation  of  the  promises  of 
grace. 

At  this  stage  of  his  experience,  and  in  this  state  of  mind.  Dr. 
Preston  providentially  preached  a  sermon  upon  1  Cor.  i.  30 : 
"  But  of  him  are  ye  in  Christ  Jesus,  who  of  God  is  made  unto  us 
,  wisdom,  and  righteousness,  and  sanctifieatiDn,  and  redemption  ; " 
^  in  which  he  showed  that  there  is  in  Christ  an  ample  supply 
for  all  our  spiritual  wants,  and  that  this  treasure  is  designed  for 
the  benefit  of  all  Christians.  "  And  when  he  had  opened  how 
oil  the  good,  all  the  redemption  I  had,  was  from  Jesus  Christ,  I 
did  then  begin  to  prize  him,  and  he  became  very  sweet  to  me," 
Although  he  had  often  heard  Christ  freely  offered  by  minisiera 
before,  if  men  would  receive  him  as  their  Lord  and  Soviour,  yel 
he  had  found  his  heart  "  ever  unwilling  to  accept  of  Christ  upon 
those  terms."  But  now  Chriat  became  precious  to  his  soul,  and 
he  fotind  it  easy  to  comply  with  the  conditions  upon  which  all  the 
blessings  of  redemption  were  promised. 

He  was  not,  however,  entirely  free  from  all  fears  and  doubts. 
But  he  found  the  Lord  constantly  "  revealing  free  mercy,"  and 
^'  showing  htm  that  all  his  ability  to  believe  in  Christ,  and  to 
''.  accept  of  him,  was  in  this  grace  of  God.  He  saw  that  Christ 
obeyed  the  law,  not  on  his  own  account,  but  to  work  out  and 
bring  in  "everlasting  righteousness"  for  poor  sinners  who  had 
none  of  their  own  —  a  righteousness  which  is  sufficient  to  "jus- 
tify the  ungodly  who  believeth  in  Jeaus."  He  saw,  also,  that 
"to  as  many  as  received  him,  to  them  gaTe^ie  power  to  becoma 
the  sons  of  God,"  and  he  tell  that  the  Lord  had  given  him  "a 


LrPE    Of    THOUAS    SBEPARD.  XZIX 

I  heart  lo  receive  Christ  with  n  naked  haod."  And  so,  after 
[  maiy  conflicts  and  quesliooing^,  lie  obtained  that  peace  of  God 
\  which  passetb  knowledge,  and  commenceil  lliat  lite  of  faith, 
y  wbicli,  as  ihe  shining  light,  ehone  brighter  and  brighter  onto  the 
perfect  day. 

Altbougli  these  religious  exercises  must  have  occupied  a  con- 
■iderable  ponion  of  his  time,  and  bave  rendered  all  human  learn- 
ing and  worldly  honor  compnrntiirely  worthless,  yet  he  seems  to 
have  maintained  a  highly  respectable  standing  in  college ;  and 
bAct  the  decided  change  which  has  been  described   took  place, 
and  religion  began  to  i^hed  its  light  and  peace  upon  his  soul,  a 
npid  development  of  his  intellectual  powers  became  evident.  V^ 
There  is  nothing  that  gives  such  elevation,  strength,  and  enlarge- 
ment to  the  mind  as  the  practical  reception  of  the  word  of  God 
I  Bnder  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     "  The  fear  of  the  Lord 
I  la  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  holy  is 
I  tuiderstanding."     Shc;iard,  in  common  with  many  others,  felt  the 
f  invigamting  effect  of  that  heavenly  knowledge ;   and  in  after 
r  year*,  when  young  men  consulted  him  with  rcupect  to  their 
f  Hudies,  he  waa  accustomed  to  refer  to  this  influence  of  religion 
I   niKHi  his  own  mind,  and  to  advise  them  lo  spi'nd  a  considerable 
I  portion  of  their  time  in  communing  with  their  own  hearts  and 
I  vith  God,  a  practice  wliich  he  had  found  so  benclicial  in  all  his 
I  intellcidual  efforts.     Thus,  at  pence  wilfa  God,  —  with  a  definiin^ 
I  object  of  pursuit  before  him,  —  and  in  the  diligent  application  of 
I  blmwlf  to  all  his  studies,  —  be  continued  through  the  remainder 
I  of  hi«  college  life.     He  took  his  bachelor's   degree   in   1623  —  )^ 
I  not  br  from  the  lime,  us  we  should  judge,  when  he  experienced 
I'  Ihe  radical  change  in  his  religious  feelings  aliove  described ;  and    . 
1  fa  ]  623,  when  he  had  finished  his  course  of  study,  he  led  college,    I 
I  with  a  high  reputation  for  schohirshtp,  and  with  the  usual  honors 
mat  tfao  nmrerBity. 


CIIAPTER  in. 

Mr.  Shepird  goes  to  Mr.  Wfld'a.— Skvlch  of  Eogliih  ecclesiutical  hi«- 
tory,  —  Slate  of  England  ni  Uic  ictesaion  of  HeiiTy  VIII,  —  Docirines  of 
the  WaldensM.  —  Wickliff.  —  Ronanatranre  of  ihc  foltowera  of  Wiot- 
liff.  —  Separation  of  ilio  Engliih  cburch  from  lt«ma. —  Henry  VIII.  be- 
comes head  oF  tlie  ctanrrh.  —  Act  of  auprcmacy.  —  Opinions  of  ihi!  peo- 
ple.—  Edward  VI,  —  Origin  of  the  Liturgy.  —  Mary  and  EtizalR^iti. — 
Staid  of  the  nation.  —  Act  of  uniformity.  —  Court  of  High  Commission. 
—  Suhncripiion  enforced.  —  Era  of  nonconformity  and  separation. — 
Penalty  for  absunce  from  public  worship.  —  Distinction  bctrreen  Xon- 
conformista  and  Brownists.  —  Nature  of  ichiiui. 

Mr.  Shepard  became  master  of  oris  in  the  juar  1<)27. 
About  e'lx  monllia  before  taking  his  degree,  he  went  to  reside  in 
the  fiimily  of  Thomas  Weld,  (then  of  Tarling,  in  the  county  of 
Essex,  and  afterwards  ordained  the  first  minister  of  the  church 
in  Koxbury,)  wliere  he  reeeived  much  aid  in  his  theological 
studies,  and  encouragement  in  his  Christian  course.  Here  he 
became'  scquaiated  witli  Thomas  Hooker,  who  about  thut  lirau 
was  appointed  a  lecturer  at  Chelmsford,  in  Ksseji,  from  whose 
able  and  discriminating  miniittry  he  derived  great  ndvaniage. 
Whiifb  cngagi^d  in  his  studies  and  preparaiioo  at  Tarling,  he  be- 
came "  very  solicitous  what  would  Income  of  him,"  when  he  had 
taken  his  master's  degree ;  for  then  his  "  timu  and  portion  would 
be  spent,"  and  he  would  be  left  without  resources,  and  wilh  small 
hope  of  finding  any  employment  for  which  he  vaa  fitted. 

The  religious  condition  of  England,  at  that  time,  was  rery 
dark  and  perplexed ;  and  the  prospects  of  pious  young  men, 
who,  like  Thomas  Shepard,  desired  to  serve  God  and  their  gen- 
eration in  the  gospel  ministry,  weie  exceedingly  discouraging. 
Allhough  the  picture  of  those  times  has  been  ol'ien  drawn,  and 
the  circumstances  which  compelled  our  fathers  lo  abandon,  not 
only  the  church  in  which  ihey  had  been  educated,  but  the  coun- 
try that  gave  them  birth,  have  been  often  and  eloquently  de- 
■crib«d,  yet  it  may  not  bs  amisi  to  give,  iu  this  pluue,  a  bri«f 


LirZ   or   THOMAS   SHEFAHD.  Xin 

■ketch  of  Uie  liislor;  of  that  gloomj'  period,  Ihat  our  youthful 
rMden  may  clearly  underaland  what  it  was  that  made  Mr. 
Shepard  ao  "  eoliciioua  whai  should  become  of  hira."  and  why  he 
eould  not  devote  liis  talenia  aiid  pieiy  to  the  work  of  the  minis- 
try  in  Protestant  Eogltind.  . 

At  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  IlenEyJtm»  who  ascended  ^^ 
|be  throne  of  England  in  the  year  IJji;>9,_jhe  English  church 
■  m»»  a  branch  of  that  PftfiSl  M'T^fhy  which  had  extended  its 
pover  over  the  civilized  world,  and  like  the  great  red  dragon 
tt  the  Apocalypse,  had  swept  away  a.  large  port  of  the  itars  of 
kaven,  and  cast  them  to  the  earth,  rendering  the  skies  black, 
and  the  night  hideous.  During  the  long  and  tyrannical  reign 
■tt  that  apostate  cliurch.  however,  there  were  a  few  faithful 
for  the  truth  who  testilied  and  were  persecuted,  tike 
V^tipos,  even  in  the  region  where  "  Satan's  seat "  was.  In  the 
|V>Ileys  of  the  Alps,  the  WaUlenscs,  uncorrupted  by  the  errors 
unawed  hy  the  power  of  Rome,  retained  the  doctrines  and 
the  dtBciptine  of  the  primitive  church.  The  history  of 
people  is,  indeed,  somewhat  obscure ;  but  from  their  own 
jSecIantioDS,  corrabomted  by  the  confessions  of  some  of  their 
werM  enemies  it  afipears  liiglily  probable  that  they  could  trace 
the  origin  of  their  churches  back  to  the  age  of  the  apostles,  and 
thai  their  religious  doctrine?  and  practices  were  gubstantiully 
tboM  which  long  afterwards  were  adopted  and  maintained  by 
tlie  EiigUnh  PuriianH.  They  rejected  the  books  of  the  Apoo 
Ijftha  from  the  eacred  unnoo.  They  kept  the  Subbaih  very 
Mriedy.  They  were  extremely  careful  of  the  religious  educa- 
of  their  children.  They  denied  the  supremacy  of  the  pope, 
Uwfuhiesa  of  indulgences,  auricular  confession,  prayers  for 
the  dead,  transubstantiation,  invocation  of  saints,  and  the  worship 
c/  the  Virgin  &Iary.  They  abhorred  the  mass,  the  doctrine  of 
porgalory,  and,  in  short,  nil  the  unscriptural  ceremonies,  super- 
Miiioti*.  and  abominations  of  the  Papacy.  They  committed  the 
putoral  care  of  tlieir  churches  to  ministers  ireely  chosen  by 
^mMlves,  who  were  expected,  in  conformity  to  the  apostolic 
b«  «xampl«i  lo  thfl  finek,  in  werd.  in  iKinTar«i.ti*«. 


^l7pl 
MTie 
Ike 


XXXll  LIFB    OF   THO»AS   SHEPABD. 

in  faitli,  in  purity,  in  charity.  Their  whole  nim  eeems  to  have 
beeu  to  realize  in  their  form  of  ecclesiastical  govei'nment,  and 
in  the  lives  both  of  tlio  clergy  and  of  the  people,  that  eaiiclity 
and  godly  simplicity  which  characterized  the  CDmm  en  cement  of 
the  church,  and  which  nere  so  beautifully  exhibited  in  Ihe  pre- 
I  cepte  and  example  of  Jesus  Christ.* 
.,  Thus,  three  hundred  years  before  the  reformation,  we  find  a 
company  of  sturdy  reformers,  who  hod  never  bowed  the  knee  to 
Baal,  —  a  remnant  according  to  the  election  of  grace,  —  who 
prepared  the  way  and  furnished  the  means  for  the  final  orcr- 
throw  of  "  that  man  of  sin,"  that  "  son  of  perdition,"  who 
"  exalteth  himself  above  all  that  is  called  God,  or  that  is  wor- 
shipped." They  were  the  Prolestanta  of  the  twelfth  century, 
and  were  called  Cafkari,  pnrS,  mnwcmiiit  of  the  professeJ^pii- 
rity  of  their  doctrines  and  life,  just  as  our  fathers  were  after- 
wards in  scorn  styled  Puritani,  for  their  opposition  to  the  errors 
and  corruptions  of  their  times. 

The  reformation,  which  many  erroneously  suppose  to  have 
commenced  in  the  sixteenth  century,  was  nothing  more  than  (he 
rejection  of  doctrines  and  practices  which  men,  in  the  course 
of  ages,  had  ignorantly  or  wickedly  added  lo  the  religion  of 
Christ.  And  this  work  was  commenced  by  the  faithful  servants 
of  God  as  soon  as  the  evil  began.  The  great  Head  of  the 
church  had  never  left  himself  without  a  few  witnesses,  at  least, 
lo  testify  against  the  errors  that  were  constantly  mingling  with 
his  trulh.  The  Romanists  ask,  wiih  an  air  of  triumph,  "  Where 
was  your  religion  before  Luther's  reformation  ?  "  We  answer, 
that  in  the  darkest  times  of  the  antichristian  apostasy,  the  true 
church,  and  the  doctrines  which  Luther,  and  Calvin,  and  our 
fathers  preached,  were  found  among  the  Waldenses,  three  hun- 
dred years  before  the  time  of  Luther ;  and  they  were  hut  the 
BQCceSBors  and  representalives  of  still  earlier  reformers,  who 
protested,  with  what  strength  (h  ey  had,  against  tlie  encroach- 
ments of  the  "  man  of  sin."     It  was  from  these  people  that  the 

*   Moshcim,  EccL  Uiit.  cent.  IS,  cb.  13. 


LtrG  OP  THOUAS   SHEPARD.  XXXIU 

ldo<-tri[ics  of  tlie  reformation  were  dibseminated  in  England  and 

roB  ihc  mntioent :  and  had  it  not  lieen  for  them,  perhaps  neither 

ITicklifT,  in  the  fourteenth  eeniury,  nor  Luilier,  in  the  sixteenth, 

mid  have  appeared  as  reformers.     During  the  fierce  persecu- 

p  la  which  they  were  constantly  exposed,  in  the  thirteenth 

jf  frtHD  the  Papal  church,  some  of  them  fled  into  Germa- 

^; -iridic  others,  turning  to  the  west,  found  refuge  in  England. 

tajmond  Lollard,  one  of  ihe  leading  men  among  the  Waldenses, 

proronlgalcd  their  doctrines  in  llie  land  of  our  fathers,  where 

tfaej*  were  allied  "  Lollard*  ; "  and  where,  from  the  fact  that,  so 

I  fate  as  the  year  l(il9,  there  was  a  lower  standing  in   London, 
•vriiich,  in  consequence  of  lis  a^e  ae  a  place  of  confinement  for 
-tixMe  who  professed  iheir  religion,  uas  called  "  The  Lollard's 
Tower,"    it   would  eeem  that  they  did  not  wholly  escape   the 
Malice  of  that  antichristian  power  whieh  consumed  their  fathers 
and  brethren,  as  hcr«tice,  in  Iinty. 
The   doctrines  held  by  the    Waldenses   were  received    and 
tanght  by  John  Wickliff,  the  earliest  of  the  English  reformers. 
Wickliff  waj  born  about  the  year  1324.     He  was  educated   at 
Qaeen's  College,  Oxford,  in  which  he  was  afterwards  professor 
of  divinity,  and  was,  for  a  time,  minister  of  Lutlerworlli,  in  the 
4iooeiW  of  Lincoln.    He  was  a  profound  scholar,  and  an  eloquent 
prescher.     Though  born  and  educated  amidst  all  the  darkness 
^uf  Pojwry,  be  preached,  «ubetanliallyi  the  same  doctrines  which 
^V^er*  aAcrwards  munloined  by  the  Puritans  ;  and  one  hundred 
^Kad  ibirty  years  before  the  reformation,  vindicated  those  great 
^Kpindpka,  which,  under  the  preaching  of   Luther,  Calvin,  and 
^BAen,  enlightened  the  world,  and  produced  that  movement  to- 
^Hjvrd  TCHgioos  and  civil  liberty  which  must  evenlually  be  enjoyed 
hf  all  nalionf.     He  wrote  nearly  two  hundred  volumes  ;  but  hia 
pcaiest  work  was  the  translation  of  the  New  Testament  inlD-4 
English. 
■      WkklLff  died  in  1364.     After  his  death,  the  university  pub- 
^HblMd  the  following  testimony  concerning  him :  "  That  from  his 
^Pyottth  to  the  time  of  his  death,  his  conversation  was  so  praise- 
worthy, that  there  never  wao  any  spot  or  suspicion  reported  of 


XHiv  LIFK   OF   TllO.MAS   SIltrAnD. 

it  i  that  in  hia  rending  and  pren<^liing  be  behaved  like  &  stool 
and  valiant  champion  of  tbe  fiiitli,  and  ibiit  be  bad  nritlen 
in  logic,  pbilosopby,  divinily,  morality,  and  llie  arts,  without 
an  equal."  Without,  however,  supposing  that  WieklifF  was 
either  immaculate  in  life,  or  absolutely  free  frum  ibeologicttl 
errors,  we  may  regard  liim  as  a  bold  defender  of  funda- 
menlal  truths,  and  the  "  morning  star "  of  the  reformation  iu 
England. 

(  In  tbe  year  1 425,  after  ho  had  been  dead  more  than  forty 
years,  the  Council  of  Constance  ordered  all  his  works  to  be  col- 
lected and  burnt,  together  wiih  bis  bones.  This  diabolical  order 
was  executed  by  Richard  Fleming,  Bishop  of  Idncoln,  who 
caused  the  remains  of  llie  excommunicated  reformer  to  be  dug 
up,  burnt,  and  the  ashes  to  be  thrown  into  a  brook.  "  Thu?," 
says  Fuller,  "  this  brook  hath  conveyed  bis  ashes  into  Avon, 
Avon  into  Severn,  Severn  into  the  Narrow  Seas ;  tbey  into 
the  main  ocean.  And  thus  tbe  ashes  of  Wickliff  are  tlie  em- 
blem of  liis  doctrine,  which  is  now  disseminated  all  the  world 
over."  •  The  number  of  his  disciples  increased  so  greatly 
after  his  death,  that  new  and  more  severe  laws  were  made 
against  heretics,  in  the  iKipe  —  vain  as  ail  sucb  hopes  mnsl  be  — 
that  force  would  prevent  the  spread  of  truth,  and  the  dun- 
geon and  the  stake  put  an  end  to  the  cflbrts  of  Christians  to 
rescue  the  people  from  ihe  ihralldom  of  error.  Fox,  the_  mar- 
lyrologist,  referring  to  the  posthumous  persecution  of  Wickliff, 
remarks,  "  that  as  there  is  ni>  counsel  against  tbe  Lord,  so  there 
is  no  keeping  down  truth,  but  it  will  spring  and  come  out  of  dust 
and  ashes,  as  appeared  in  this  man.  For  tbey  di^ed  up  bis 
body,  burnt  bis  hones,  and  drowned  bis  ashes ;  yet  the  word  of 
God  and  irutb  of  bis  doctrine,  with  tbe  fruit  and  success  of  bis 
labors,  they  could  not  burn,  and  they  remain,  for  the  most  part, 
to  this  day."  t 
About  eight  years  after  Wickliff's  death,  his  foUowers  pre- 
;  eented  a  remonstrance  to  the  English  Parliament,  in  which  they 


•  Church  History,!).  JT.  p.  171. 


t  AcU  sad  Monutncnu,  i. 


LIFK    OF    THOMAS    SHEPARD.  XIXV 

•peak  of  Romanism  just  as  Sbepard  ilid,  two  hundred  and  tillj 
yean  later.  Tliey  say  that  when  the  chureh  of  England  began 
lo  mbmaDage  faer  temporalities,  ia  conrormity  to  ihe  precedent 
rf  Some,  faith,  hope,  and  charily  began  lo  take  leave  of  her 
awnmuDion;  ihal  the  English  prieslhood,  derived  from  Rome, 
and  pretending  lo  a  power  superior  tc  angels,  is  not  Ihe  priesthood 
vhich  Christ  settled  upon  his  apo»Lles;  that  the  enjoining  celiba- 
Kj  upon  the  clergy  was  the  occasion  of  scandalous  irregulari- 
ties in  the  church  ;  that  the  pretended  miracle  of  transubstanti- 
■ioo  runs  the  great  part  of  Christendom  upon  idolatry ;  that 
Exorcisms  and  bene  die  I  ion  f!,  pronounced  over  bread  and  oil,  wax. 
incense,  over  the  stones  of  the  altar,  the  holy  vestments,  tha 
ikiler,  the  ctoas,  and  the  pilgrim's  staff*,  have  mare  of  necro- 
■Mncy  than  of  religion  in.ihem  ;  that  the  union  of  the  offices  of 
f^nce  and  bishop,  prelate  and  scculnr  judge,  in  the  same  person, 
■td  making  the  rector  of  a  parish  a  civil  officer,  is  a  plain  mis> 
^■nageroenl,andputsakingdomo<it  of  ihe  right  way  ;  that  pray- 
er made  fiir  the  dvad  is  a  wrong  ground  for  charity  and  religious 
ndowments,  and  therefore  all  the  charities  of  England  stand 
iqmn  a  wrong  foundation  ;  that  pilgrimages,  prayers,  and  offcr- 
iag*,  made  to  images  and  crosses,  have  nothing  of  charity  in 
ibem,  anil  are  near  of  kin  to  idolatry ;  that  auricular  confession 
aakes  the  priests  proud,  and  lets  them  into  the  secrets  of  the 
gives  opportunity  for  intrigues,  and  that  this,  us  well  as 
ine  of  indulgences,  is  attended  with  scandahius  eonse- 
that  the  vow  of  single  life,  undertaken  by  women  in 
cliurch  of  En^and,  is  the  occasion  of  horrible  disorders.* 
»f  were  sound  doctrines,  and  well  put  to  the  reason  and  con- 
■  of  the  Parliament;  hut  tliey  wrought  no  change,  and 
red  it  BO  lafer  to  preairh  or  praotice  ihem.  Persecution 
against  the  Lollards.  —  as  all  who  dei^ired  a  reformation  / 
t  church  were  now  culled,  —  under  Henry  V. ;  but  the 
tlwy  were  persecuted,  the  more  tliey  increased,  and  they 
tits  whole  of  England  wilb  good  seed,  which,  uourished 

■  Collier,  £ci.'l.  [lut.  i.  cent.  It. 


XZXVl  LIKE   OF   THOKAS    SQI^PAUD. 

by  the  blood  of  ibe  roarij-rs,  bus  continued   to  bnug  forth  good 
fruit  to  this  day. 

Tlie  Srs(  rupture  between  the  English  church  and  the  FajMi) 
hierarchy,  and  the  commencement  of  what  has  been  called  the 
reformation  in  England,  were  occasioned,  not  by  a  change  of 
reUgious  opinions  either  in  the  ruHag  powers,  or  the  great  mass 
/of  the  people,  but  by  causes  purely  aelfisb  and  worldly.  Ilenry 
VIII.,  a  man  uol  only  destitute  of  all  personal  religion,  but 
possessed  of  all  the  vile  and  abominable  passions  which  can  de- 
grade humanity,  wished  toobiaiii  from  the  pope  a  divorce  from  hia 
queeu,  Katharine,  that  he  might,  with  the  sanction  of  the  churcli, 
marry  Anne  Boleyn,  who  had  been  an  attendant  upon  the  queen. 
The  ground  which  be  assigned  for  this  divorce  was  so  absurd  that 
even  the  pope,  unscxupulous  as  be  was  in  respect  to  other  mat- 
ters, and  strongly  as  he  was  inclined  to  grant  the  request  of  htd 
powerful  subject,  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  sanction  it. 
Whereupon  Heary,  not  to  be  defeated  in  his  cruel  purpose, 
resolved  to  make  himself  the  supreme  head  of  the  English 
churcli. 

His  first  act  of  retaliation  upon  the  pope  was  a  proclamation, 
in  which  all  persons  were  forbidden  to  purchase  any  thing  from 
Rome,  under  the  severest  penalties.  In  1534,  being  the  tweuty- 
gixlb  year  of  his  reign,  the  iict.  of  supremacy,  which  took  from  iho 
pope  all  authority  and  power  over  the  church  in  England,  and 
gave  to  the  king  ail  aulliority  whatever  in  ecclesiastical  affairs, 
was  passed  by  the  Parliament.  This  act  declares  that "  the  king, 
his  heirs,  and  successors,  kings  of  England,  shall  be  taken,  ac- 
cepted, and  reputed  the  only  Supkeue  Head  of  the  churub  of 
England;  and  shall  have  and  enjoy,  annexed  and  united  to  the 
imperial  crown  of  this  realm,  as  well  tiie  title  and  style  thereof, 
US  lUl  the  honors,  immunities  proHts,  and  commodities,  to  the 
SuPREiiK  Head  of  the  church  belonging ;  and  shall  have  full 
power  and  authority  to  visit,  repress,  redress,  and  amend  all 
BDeh  errors,  heresies,  abuses,  contempts,  and  enormities,  whatso- 
ever they  be,  which,  by  any  manner  of  spiritual  authority  or 
jariediution,    ought   or    uwy   be  lawfully  reformed,    repressed. 


SHEPARD. 


XXXVU 


r  .ordered,  redressed,  connsc-led,  rcatrftincd,  or  ameoded,  most  to  tha 

t  of  Almighty  God,  and  increase  of  virtue  in  Christ's 

B,aiid  for  ibe  conservation  of  peace,  udiI}-,  and  tranquillity 

t  Ralm,  mny  usage,  cuslora,  foreign  law,  foreign  authority, 

ription,  or  any  thing  or  tilings,  lo  the  contrary  Dotwith- 

R  act  wag  the  comnieacement  of  what  has  beeii  called  tliel/ 
I'-**  Reformaiioa "  in  Knglimd.     But  it  was  not  such  an  act  as  the 
the  ehurch  demanded.     It  was  conecived  in  sin,  and 
Might  fortli  in  iniquily.     It  g&ve  no  relief  to  burdened  con- 

ir  frreduni  to  the  souk  tliat  were  crying  from  under  ^ 
■(Ik  altar.  It  made  no  change  in  doctrine,  nor  breathed  any  new  v 
i.Sfe  iiilo  tlie  dead  formalilres  of  the  old  religion.  Il  eitnply 
f  tnuisfcrrcd  tlie  church,  like  a  flock  of  sUeeg,  from  a  rnpacioua 
Kt|ie  to  B  brutal  nod  licentious  king :  and  gave  to  a  civil,  instead  k 
n  cccksiastical  tyrant,  the  sole  power  of  reforming  abuses, 
:»ira,  and  errors,  vrilhoul  the  slighleal  regard  to  tlie  rights  of 
I  conwience.  or  the  laws  of  .Teaus  Christ.  It  was  an  act  which, 
in  banisliing  the  pope,  banished  the  King  of  Zion  from  his  ap- 
pnifiriate  douinin,  and  entlironed  one  who  might  be  called  literal- 
ly, a  **  moH  of  tin,"  in  the  church,  —  for  he  was  one  of  ibe  most 
widted  of  men, — autborixing  him,  as  God,  to  sit  in  the  temple, 
and  to  untrp  llur  antUorily  of  God.  Il  was  continually  forlilied. 
and  its  provisions  extended,  by  subsequent  acts  of  Parliament. 
In  tbe  tbifty-sevenlh  year  of  this  reign,  a  law  was  pushed  which 
declares  "  that  arebhishups,  bbhops,  archdeacons,  and  others, 
bale  no  manner  of  juriadiction  ecelesiustieal.  but  by.  under,  and 
from  Ibe  king*s  aulhority,  tlie  only  undoubted  supreme  head  of' 
Uw  cbare]i  of  England,  tu  whom,  by  Holy  Scripture,  all  author- 
ity and  power  is  wholly  given  to  bear  and  delerioine  all  man- 
ner of  aitics  wbalsoever.  and  to'correci  all  manner  of  hereiJes, 
errors.  tUws,  and  sins  whatever;  and  to  all  such  persons  as  bis 
iMuuty  sball  appoint  tbereuiilo."  *     Under  this  law  diancelors, 


•  Meal.  tli>t  Purii.  il.  ch.  I. 
ne,  OiN.  Eng.,  A.  Si.  1 13*. 


Peirce,  VindifUkiloD  of  J)luenUi*,  pp.  T-4. 


XZXTiii  LIF£   OF  THOUAS   SHEPABD. 

oommissioners,  and  other  officers,  nerer  heard  of  in  ibe  primitive 
^  church,  were  appointed  ;  and,  to  eecularize  die  church  as  eftect- 
usMy  as  possible,  the  king,  in  the  exereiae  of  his  unlimited  power, 
committed  all  the  most  important  ecclesiastical  matters  to  lajmen. 
This  exorbitant  power  in  the  j-Htliticol  liead  of  the  church  was 
confirmed  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  of 
James  I.,  and  of  Charles  II. ;  and  until  the  reign  of  William 
and  Mary,  all  clergymen  were  conij>elled  lo  aeknonledge  it  in 
the  oath  of  supremacy  —  an  oath  which  transferred  their  alle- 
\  giance,  as  Christians,  from  GLrist  to  the  King  of  England,  and 
made  them  traitors  to  the  cause  which  ail  true  r'  '  — 


bound  by  a  more  solemn  and  stringent  oath  to  defend  at  all 
hazards. 

Although  the  church  of  England  was  thus  effectually  sepa- 
rated from  the  church  of  Rome,  and  emancipated  from  the 
authority  of  the  pope,  the  gireat  body  of  the  inferior  clergy, 
and  of  the  people,  countenanced  and  encouraged  by  many  lead- 
ing men  both  in  the  church  and  stale,  adJiered  firmly  to  the 
old  opinions  and  practices ;  and  althougli,  during  the  reign  of 
this  capricious  and  cruel  tyrant,  there  was  much  contiacation 
of  church  properly,  and  persecution  of  Roman  Catholics,  there 
was  but  very  little  reformation  from  the  worst  corruptions  of 
Popery.  Uow  could  the  church  be  purified  by  such  a  beaat 
Bs  Henry  VIII.,  atid  by  time-serring  men  like  Crannier,  who 
were  always  ready  to  become  the  toob  of  a  power  that  neither 
fWed  God  nor  regarded  man? 

Edward  VI.,  a  youth  of  very  different  disposition  and  tem- 
per from  his  father, — of  visible  piety  even,  —  ascended  the 
throne  in  1547.  Under  his  reign  some  change  for  the  better 
was  effected  in  the  condition  of  the  oppressed  and  suffering 
uhurch.  Two  of  the  statutes  against  the  Lollards,  and  several 
\J  oppressive  Popish  laws,  were  repealed,  and  others,  more  favora- 

Lble  to  truth  and  liberty,  enacted  by  the  Parliament  whicli  as- 
sembled soon  after  the  accession  of  the  young  king.  A  com- 
mittee of  divines  was  appointed  to  examine  and  reform  the 
worship  of  the  church,  wlio,  finding  the  clergy  generally  incai)a- 


LIFE   OP  THOXAS   SHEPARD.  XXX 

ble  ©r  composing  eitber  sermons  or    proyera,  set  forth  &  bool^^ 
of  Homilies,  and  a  Liturgy  Tor  their  use.     Tliis  change  in  itie 

wonhip  of   ibe  cliurch  was    tlie  foundation  of  that  umfarmitjt 

iriiidi    was   iub«equentty  established  by  the    government,  and 
exaclcl  writb    sucb    unsparing  rigor    by  thow    in  power,    that 
many  of  lUe   most   pious  and  useful  ministers  in   England,  like 
Shepard  and    his    asiiociates,  who  had    conscit-'ntious    sirruples 
respecting  the  propiiely  of  some  of  these  olRees,  were  obliged  to 
■bondati  the  ministry,  or,  like  the  woman  of  the  Revelation,  tiee 
into  the  wilderness,  where  God  had  prepared  a  place  for  them. 
-    Nothing  can  be  more  certain  than  that,  in  the  first  and  purest  \ 
Wge  of  the  church,  there  was  no  such  tiling  as  a  uniform  liturgy,    I 
vhich  all  worshipers  were  oUigrd  to  use  and  conform  to.     Very  / 
ftw  forms  appear  lo  have  been  used  for  three  hundred  years, 
•nd  those  were  not  impotrd  upon  the  people  by  ecclesiastical  or  J 
ciTil  power.      In  those  times  Christian   woi^sbip  coiiaialed  of 
hymns,  —  prayers, —  (which,  as  Terlullian  says,  were  offered 
line  muttitore,  quia  de  pedort,  without  a  prompter,  because  they 
aunt  from  the  heart,)  —  the  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  —  and 
the  celcbralioa  of  the  Lord's  supper.     It  was  not  until  the  fourth^^ 
aeniury  that  set  forms  were  introduced,  and  ministers  were  for- 
bidden to  use  any  prayers  in  the  churches  except  such  as  were 
iposed  by  able  men,  or  approved  by  the  synods ;  and  even 
ionovation,  as  Shepard  remnrks,  grew  out  of  the  gross  and 

iporance  of  the  ministry  in    those   contentious  and  ' 
ical  times,  and  was  enforced  in  order  to  prevent  the  scan- 
ts which  were  common  in  churches  where  the  pastors 
wvn  incapable  of  preaching  or  praying  lo  the  edification  of  the 

By  degrees,  however,  tlie  worship  of  the  church,  which,  from 
I  tte  beginning,  had  been  very  simple,  notwillistandiug  the  forms 
P-flurf  hod  from  lime  (o  time  been  introduced,  begnn,  as  Burnet 
retnarks,  to  be  thought  too  naked,  unless  "  put  under  more  artifi- 
cial rules,  and  dressed  up  with  much  ceremony ; "  and  therefore 
Tvious  rights  and  ceremonies,  better  fitted  to  please  the  eye  v 


anti  strike  (he  imagination  llian  to  promote  the  gqtily  eiliCyuig 
of  the  worshiper,  were  coniimmlly  nddeii.  Still  there  was  no 
universal  uniformity  of  worsbip.  Every  bishop  adopted  that 
form  which  he  thought  best  nilapted  to  the  liiaea  and  to  the  tem- 
per of  hla  own  people.  And  this  diversity  continued  until  the 
Biebop  of  Rome,  among  other  acta  of  usurpation,  pretended 
that  in  belonged  to  the  mother  church  to  furnish  a  model  of 
doctrine  and  of  worship,  to  which  all  the  eliurches  iu  Christendom 
ought  to  conform.  But  even  under  the  dominion  of  the  pope, 
there  was  great  diversity  in  the  forms  of  worship,  and  aluolutf 
jum/ormitj/  was  never  effected  until  it  was  foi-ced  upon  the 
English  church  after  its  separation  from  Rome. 

The  committee  of  divines  who  prepared  the  English  Litur- 
gy under  Ektward  VI.  found  a  great  variety  of  forms,  and 
much  diversity  in  respect  to  worship,  existing  in  the  ehurch. 
In  the  south  of  England  there  was  the  Liturgy  of  Sarum ;  in  the 
north,  th»t  of  the  Duke  of  York ;  in  South  Wales,  that  of 
Hereford ;  in  North  Wales,  tbat  of  Bangor ;  in  the  diocese  of 
Lincoln,  one  which  was  peculiar  to  that  see.  The  committee 
collected  all  these  offices, —  this  "copper  counterfeit  coin,"  — 
as  Shepard  calla  it,  —  "of  a  well-grown  ADlichrisI,  whereby  he 
cheated  the  churches  when  he  stole  away  the  golden  legacy 
of  Christ,"  —  with  the  design  of  forming  out  of  them  a  new 
Liturgy,  which  should  be  used  in  all  jiarts  of  the  country,  an<l 
by  every  congregation.  They  thought  that  entire  uniformity, 
J  both  in  doctrine  and  worship,  was  necessary  to  the  purity  and 
peace  of  the  church  ;  and  were  dcleriuined  that  the  diversity 
which  had  been  tolerated  in  the  darkest  times  of  Popery  should 
no  longer  be  allowed  in  Protestant  England.  They  attempted 
what  was  at  once  unreasonable,  unnecessary,  and  impracticable ; 
and  forged  fetters  for  the  people,  which,  if  they  did  not  crush 
the  life  of  devotion  out  of  the  church,  would  one  day  be  hurst 
asunder  with  violence  and  universal  tumult.  Had  they  drawn 
up  various  forms  for  those  whose  feeble  piety  needed  assistance, 
And  letl  something  to  the  judgment,  disi 


IFK   OF   THOMAS    SHEPARD.  Xfi 

I  pf  ibose  who  had  begnn  to  "  breathe  the  pure  air  of  the  Holy 
riptures,"  the  churuh  might  have  been  united,  and  New  Eng- 
I  land  remained  for  some  centuries  longer  in  the  possesaion  of 
Lib  origioal  infaabilanta. 

:  fir^t  Borviee  book,  or  Liturgy  of  Edward  VT.,  was 
Bptbered  from  the  Popish  Breviary,  Itituul,  and  Missal,  vrith 
■  bat  slight  alterations  br  improvements.  They  did  not,  says 
Surnet,  mend  every  tiling  (hat  re<]uired  it,  but  left  the  office 
t»f  the  mass  as  it  was,  only  adding  to  it  that  which  made  it  ft 
GominiinioD.  While  many  of  the  Romteh  superstitions  were 
OffliUed,  eome  were  retained ;  the  committee  going  "  as  far  as 
they  coald  in  reforming  the  church,"  and  hoping  "that  they 
who  ahould  come  after  would,  as  Ihey  might,  do  more."  *  They 
fell,  honeslly,  no  doubt,  that  it  was  a  great  advantage  to  the 
people  to  hear  prayers  io  their  native  language,  rather  than  in 
an  unknown  langae.  They  wished  Io  have  the  people  united; 
And  aimed  to  convert  Papists  to  the  English  church  by  a  form 
of  worship  which  should  differ  as  little  as  possible  from  that  to 
which  they  had  been  accustomed.  Those  who  desired  a  real 
teformalion  did  all  that  they  could ;  and  those  who  were  Papists 

were  ssdafied  to  have  a  Liturgy  which  made  do  funda-  y" 
snUl  ehange.    Among  other  things,  the  vestments  in  whiclr 
B  Roniah  priests  officiated  were  retained,  against  the  judgment 
y  pious  persons,  who  thought  that  these  surplices,  copes, 
i  other  rags  and  symbols  of  Popery,  should  be  confiued  to  the 
«'■  wardrobe.     It  was  urged  that  these  garments  belonged 
y  of  the  mass,  and  hod  been  used  to  set  it  off  with 
1  show,  and  ought  not,  llicrefore,  to  be  used  in  a 
ssing  to  be  apostoUcoL     But  to  this  the  reformera 
I,  tliat  the  priest's  garments,  under  the  Mosaic  dispensa- 
e  white,  and  tbis  seemed  to  be  a  fit  emblem  of  the  punty 
jncy  becoming  priests  under  the  gospel.     Moreover,  it 
1  that  the  clergy  were  extremely  poor,  and  could  not 
4reM  themselves  decently  ;  and  as'the  people,  vibrating 

•  Frebc*  10  tb<  Lilursi'  ofEdirknl  VI. 


XHi  LIFE 

from  the  extreme  of  blind  dubmis^on  to  the  clergj,  were  inclined 
to  despine  tliem,  and  lo  make  liglit  of  their  sacred  functions,  if 
they  were  to  otflciate  in  their  own  garments  they  would  bring 
the  divine  offices  into  contempt.  These  considerations  were 
deemed  conclusive,  and  ea  it  was  resolved  that  the  use  of  the 
Popish  vestmenls  should  be  continued,  and  made  obligatory  upon 
all  officiating  clergymen.* 

A  more  thorough  reformation  of  the  church  —  a  reformation 
which  should  leave  none  of  the  vain  pomp  and  foolirth  pageant- 
ry of  Romanism  beliind  —  a  reformation  which  should  make 
all  the  rites,  ceremonies,  and  doctrines  of  the  church  conform- 
able to  the  rules  laid  down,  by  C'hriat  and  his  apnailes,  and 
Jiuffer  nothing  lo  be  required  of  men  but  what  was  clearly 
auctioned  by  the  aulhorily  of  God'a  word  —  was  needed  ;  and 
by  many,  even  by  Edward  himself,  greatly  desired.  And  had 
those  in  power  followed  the  light  of  the  Scriptures,  which  was 
then  beginning  to  shine  upon  the  church,  purging  out  the 
old  leaven  of  Popery,  Rnd  every  thing  in  doctrine  or  worship 
which  they  themselves  acknowledged  was  unscriptural,  there 
would  have  been  no  dissent  except  among  the  advocates  of 
an  antichristian  hierarchy.  But,  as  Edward,  in  his  vain  efforts 
to  realise  bis  idea  of  a  reformation,  sadly  complained,  those 
bishops  who  ought  to  carry  forward  this  work,  "some  for  Papis- 
try, some  for  ignorance,  some  for  age,  some  for  their  ill  name, 
some  for  all  these,"  were  men  "  unable  lo  execute  discipline," 
and  it  was  tiierefore  "  a  thing  unmeet  for  them  to  do."  t 

It  was  lamentably  true,  as  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  in  her  interest- 
ing Memoirs  of  her  huebaui],  finely  remarks,  "  that  when  the 
dawn  of  the  gospel  began  lo  break  upon  England,  at^er  the 
dark  night  of  the  Papacy,  the  morning  was  more  cloudy  there 
than  in  other  places,  by  reason  of  the  state  interest  which 
was  mixing  and  working  itself  into  the  inlerests  of  religion, 
and  which,    in    the    end,  quite  wrought    it  out.     For    Henry 

•  Bamet,  Hist.  Reform-  iJ-  ^X  T8 

t  Neule,  Hiat.  Pnrit.  i.  53.     BuraEt,  ULsL  Reform,  ii.  B9,  427. 


OF  TiiouAs  SHEPAWD.  xliii 


"VlII-,  wbo  by  hia  royal  Huthorily  cast  out  ihe  pope,  did  not 
ml  ilmi  tlie  people  of  the  Innd  alioiild  liave  any  ense  of  oppres- 
■ion,  but  only  rhange  their  foreign  yoke  for  homebred  fetter^i, 
'dividiog  tbe  pope's  spoils  between  himself  and  his  bishops, 
'«ho  cared  not  for  their  father  at  Kome.  so  long  as  Ihey  enjoyed 
bwr  patrimony  and  iheir  honore  at  home,  under  another  bend, 
Under  tlie  rpign  of  Mary,  the  sister  of  Eiiward,  the  English' 
^uivh  reverted  lo  Popery;  and  Proteatnnia,  indiacrimiuiloly, 
ttnfferMi  the  most  severe  and  unrelenting  pemecutioo. 

Oh  the  accession  of  Elizabeth,  in  1558,  all  real  Protestants 
■is  the  nation  enlt-rtaitied  strung  bopes  that  the  work  of  relbrm, 
%tuch  was  begun  (with  wlialever  motiTes)  by  her  father,  which 
<Wm  promoted  lo  ihe  extent  of  his  power  by  her  brother  Edward, 
■and  which  hud  been  not  only  retanled,  but  reversed,  by  her 
>ii«tcr  MMry.  of  bloody  memory,  would  be  resumed  and  speedily 
ropleled.  But  all  hopes  founded  upon  the  accession  of  a  pro- 
liftssedly  Protpjiiant  queen  were  destined  to  be  sadly  disap- 
foinled. 

The  nation  was,  at  this  time,  divided  into  three  parlies  of  very  v^ 
nequal  tite :  the  PapUtt,  the  Slate  Profetltmlt,  and  a  small,  but 
'OODtinually  increasing,  number  of  fruly  religioiii  peoplt,  who  were 
isAcrwards  branded  with  the  name  of  Puritans.  The  great 
itody  of  the  people  of  England,  says  Macaulay,  had  no  tiled 
jspinion  ns  tn  Ihe  mallurs  of  dispute  Itetwecn  the  churches. 
"  Each  ^icle  had  a  few  enterprising  champions,  and  n  few  stout- 
KearlMl  niiirtyr» :  but  the  nation,  undctorraincd  in  iiit  opinions 
1  ftwliii^,  resigned  itself  iiapUciily  lo  thu  guidance  of  the 
^remment,  md  lent  to  the  sovereign,  for  the  time  being,  an 
lualljr  ready  aid  against  either  of  the  extreme  parties.  They 
ero  Boraetimes  Protestant,  sometimes  Catholic,  sometimes  half 
ProUwtMitu,  lialf  Catholics.  They  were  in  a  situation  resembling 
bu  of  tlUMC  borderers  whom  Sir  Walter  Scott  has  descnbed 
nth  w  much  spirit,  — 

"  Who  unftht  the  liccTei  that  muds  Iheir  broth, 
lo  Scotland  and  in  England  liulli." 
*  IStmoin  of  Colonel  IlDtchlnKin,  1  10S. 


»HT  life    of    THOMAS    SHKPAIiP. 

The  religion  of  England  was  thus  a  mixed  religion,  like  that 
of  the  SamariUtn  setllera  dcficrilied  in  the  Secotid  Book  of  Kiaga, 
'■  who  feared  the  Lord,  and  served  their  own  guds  ; "  like  that 
of  tlie  Judaizing  Christians,  %\'ho  bleoded  the  doctrines  of  the 
synagogue  with  Ihose  of  the  church;  like  that  of  the  Mexican' 
Indian^  who.  for  many  generations  utter  Ihe  subjugation  of  their 
race,  continued  to  unite  with  the  rites  learned  from  their  con- 
querors the  worship  of  (he  grotesque  idols  ivbich  had  been 
adored  by  Montezuma  and  Gautiraoiin."  • 

All  the  English  clergy,  who  were  really  Protestant  at  heart, 
made  vigorous  eliertions,  in  the  beginning  of  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth, to  separate  the  church  more  entirely  from  the  influence 
of  Popery ;  but  the  queen,  who  controlled  all  the  affairs  of  the 
church  as  well  as  of  the  stale,  was  very  differently  inclined. 
Though  educated  as  a  Protestant,  and  professing,  from  her  early 
years,  to  feel  strong  dislike  of  the  Papacy,  and  love  lo  the  cause 
of  truth,  she  was,  in  opinion,  "  little  belter  than  half  a  Prolea- 
tant."  She  loved  magnificence  in  religion  as  well  a^  in  every 
thing  else,  and,  to  the  last,  cherished  a  great  fondness  for  those 
rites  and  ceremonies  of  the  Romish  church  which  her  father  had 
retained.  "  She  had  no  scruple  about  conforming  to  that  church, 
when  conformity  was  necessary  to  her  own  saftjly ;  and  she  bad 
profeBBed,  when  it  suited  her,  lo  be  wholly  a  Calholic."  She 
always  kept  a  crucifix,  with  wax  lights  burning  aronnd  it,  in  her 
private  chapel.  The  service  of  the  church  had  been  too  much 
stripped  of  ornament  and  display  lo  suit  her  taste,  and  its  doc- 
trines were  made  loo  nairow  for  her  opinions;  in  bolli,  therefore, 
she  made  alterations,  to  bring  them  into  greater  conformity  to 
Ihe  Papacy.  Instead  of  carrying  the  reformation  of  Edward 
further,  she  often  repented  that  it  had  been  carried  so  far. 
Accordingly  she  directed  tho.  committee  of  divines,  who  were 
appointed,  in  15o9,  to  review  the  Liturgy  of  Edward,  to  sirite 
out  all  passages  ihat  could  be  offensive  lo  the  pope,  and  to  make 
the  people  easy  about  the  cor)>oi'eal  presence  of  Christ  in  the 

*  Macnuiay'i  Kshti.  i.  ITS,  I'D. 


LIFE   OF  THOBA9   SHEPARU.  xlv 

Mcrarocnt,  bul  to  say  not  a,  word  in  favor  of  the  stricler  Proles- 
I'lini^  H  respectable  body  both  of  the  clergy  and  ihe  laity,  wbo 
s  lUikioua  to  bring  tbe  reformation  to  that  slate  which  Pi-ot- 
I.MlAnls  alirond  regarded  as  llic  Bcripiural  model. 

In  tbe  year  1559,  ilii;  Parliamunt  passed  an  "  act  for  the  v^ 
P  SDtforniity  of  common  pmyer,  and  service  of  the  church,  and 

lininlration  of  the  eacramenta  ;  "  by  one  clause  of  which  all       , 

l.teFkiiasiical  jurisdiction  was  again  given  up  to  the  crown ;  and 

■  Ihe  queen  was  empowered,  with  ilie  advice  of  her  ciHnmisaioners, 

P«r  mfclropolitun,  tu  ordain  and  publish  such  other  ritps  or  cere- 

nouies  at  uiigbt,  in  her  opinion,  be  moat  for  the  advancement  of 

Gud'e  glory,  the  edifying  of  bis  church,  and  the  due  reverence 

of  Christ's  holy  mysteries  anil  sacrami:nts  ;  without  which  claiiEe, 

fwnrving  to  the   queen    power  to    make   what   alterations   she 

I  jirayied,  she  told  Archbishop  Parker  she  would  not  have  passed 

I  ibc  DcL     Tlic  oppressive  u^e  that  was  tnade  of  the  enormous 

I. power  thtiE  conferred  upon  a  queen,  who  declared  tjiat  she  bated 

W  ike  PurilMis  worse  than  she  did  the  Papists,  we  see  in  the  hi^ 

l^toiT  of  those  times.     Elizabeth  was  resolved  that  all  should 

■Mnform  to  her  worship,  or  Buffer  the  severest  penalties  of  Ihe 

Kkwi  and  she  fierseculed  the  conscientious  Nonconformists  with 

Wm  cruelty  which  proved  that  her  profession  of  hatred  was  sincere. 

lUhe  did  not  bum  them,  us  her  si^^ter  Blary  did  the  herclics  of 

H^tjfeM,  but  she  subjected  them  to  liardships  more  terrible  tlian 

HBrthe  exercise  of  her  boundless  prerogative,  ehe  instituted  / 
Hm  cagine  of  persecution,  the  court  of  "  High  Commission  i "  V 
Kiiiil  DO  leM  than  Sve  courts  of  this  name  were  established  with 
^bcre«8itig  wvoriiy.  The  power  of  these  tribunals  was  brought 
Bb  i*car  with  Irrrible  ctfect  upon  the  Puritans.  A  great  many 
■hiUirul  ministers  wero  suspended  from  their  livings,  deposeil, 
^bed,  imprinnned,  and  their  families  and  inlereMs  ruined,  for 
nefiwing  to  conform  to  the  esliiblishetl  ritual.  They  were  fre- 
llQBnitiy  imprisoned  without  any  previous  complaint,  and  some- 
^^Bts  without  any  knowledge  of  the  chiu'ges  upon  which  the; 


xlvi  LIFE  or  THOUAS  sbefarh. 

wen?  nrresled  ;  ihcy  were  refused  bail,  anJ  often  suiFered  a  long 
and  tedious  (.'oiifinement  before  they  were  brought  to  trial. 
They  were  not  only  denied  the  privilege  of  trial  by  jury,  but 
condemned  without  being  confronted  by  the  witnesses  against 
them.  On  the  most  iiisnnring  questions,  multiplied  and  arranged 
in  the  moat  artl'ul  manner,  they  were  obliged  to  answer  instantly 
uptin  onth,  with  the  rack  or  tlic  prison  distinctly  in  view.  The 
horrible  character  of  these  inquisitorial  examinations  is  well 
described  by  Lord  Burleigh,  in  a  letter  to  Archbishop  Wlkit- 
gift :  "  I  have  read  over  your  twenty-four  articles,  formed  in 
Romish  style,  of  great  length  and  curiosity,  to  examine  all  man- 
ner of  ministers  in  this  time,  without  distinction  of  persons, 
to  be  executed,  and  I  find  them  so  curiously  penned,  so  full  of 
branches  and  circums lances,  that  I  think  the  Inquisition  of  Spain 
used  not  so  many  questions  to  comprehend  and  to  trap  their 
prieslB." 

After  the  convocation  of  15G2  had  framed  the  Thirty-nine 
Articles,  and,  by  a  majority  of  one,  decided  to  retain  all  the 
ceremooicB  which  had  given  so  much  offence  to  every  real  Prot- 
estant, the  bishops  began  to  enrorce  upon  the  clergy  subscrip- 
tion to  the  Liturgy  and  ceremonies,  as  well  as  to  the  articles 
of  faith.  The  penalty  for  refusing  to  subscribe  was  eKpulaion 
from  their  parishes.  Three  hundred  ministers,  of  pious  and  ex- 
emplary lives,  some  of  them  eminent  for  their  talents  and  learn- 
ing, refused  to  subscribe,  and  were  deprived  of  their  living. 
Unwilling  to  separate  from  a  church  in  which  the  word  and  the 
sacraments  were  in  substance  administered,  though  dbfigured 
and  defiled  by  some  Popish  superstitions,  some  of  tliese  deprived 
ministers  continued  to  preach,  as  they  bad  opportunity,  in  places 
where  the  ceremonies  could  be  safely  dispensed  with,  though 
they  were  excluded,  of  course,  from  all  ecclesiastical  prefer- 
ment 

Many  of  the  common  people  were  as  strongly  opposed  to  the 
use  of  the  clerical  vestments,  and  other  relics  of  Popery,  as  the 
ministers,  and,  believing  it  to  be  milawful  lo  countenance  such 


LUX  ur  luOMAa  BHBi-Aiti>.  xlvii 

Mperslitione  even  by  their  presence,  would  not  enter  the 
churches  where  thej'  were  used.  It  now  became  &  question  of 
great  interest  and  iniportance,  for  those  who  were  qualiRed  and 
desirous  to  preach  the  goiipel,  as  well  as  for  those  who  wished  to 
henr  it  in  its  purity,  what  their  duly  was  in  this  posture  of  alFaii's. 
Id  the  year  1572,  a  solemn  consultation  was  held  by  them  upon  1/ 
this  subject :  and  after  prayer  and  earnest  debate   respecting 

(the  lawlijlness  and  necc^ity  of  separating  from  the  establbhed 
ehurdi,  they  came  to  lliis  result :  "  That,  since  they  could  not 
laiv«  (he  word  of  God  preached,  nor  the  sacraments  adminis- 
torwl,  without  idolatrous  gear,  and  since  there  had  been  a  scpa- 
nie  congregation  in  London,  and  another  at  Geneva,  in  Queen 
l[ary*8  lime,  which  used  a  book  ond  order  of  preaching,  admin- 
istration, and  discipline  which  Calvin  had  approved  of,  and 
which  was  free  from  the  superstition  of  the  English  service, 
therefore  it  was  their  duty,  in  their  present  circumstances,  to 
break  off  from  the  public  church,  and  to  assemble,  as  they  hod  ^ 
«p]iorlQnily.  in  private  houses,  or  elsewhere,  to  worship  God  in 
K  manner  that  might  not  offend  tlie  light  of  their  consciences." 
Another  question  was  discussed  at  this  meeting,  namely,  whelJier 
lliey  should  use  so  much  of  the  Common  Prayer  and  service  of 
llie  church  as  was  not  offensive  ;  or,  since  they  were  cut  off  from 
!  church  of  England,  at  once  lo  set  up  iho  purest  and  best 
Ibrm  of  worship  most  consonant  to  the  sacred  Scriptures,  and  to 
Ite  practice  of  the  foreign  reformers.  They  concluded  to  do  .  ^ 
be  faiUer ;  and  accordingly  laid  aside  the  English  Liturgy  nlto-V^ 
elhi-r,  and  adopted  (he  service  book  used  at  Geneva.  This 
■•  b«en  colled  the  epoch  of  the  SepanUion,  aa  the  year  15C2  \. 
ynt  of  Noaenn/vrmilg.' 

la  the  year  1581,  the  Parliament  passed  an  act  imposing  a 
bM  of  20/.  a  monih  on  every  person  who  refused  to  attend  the 
OodtBMO  Prayer;  and  it  was  not  long  before  there  was  occasion 
i  inAIct  this  ruinous  penalty.  The  nfHicted  Puritans  appealed 
t  the  queen,  to  both  houses  of  Parliament,  to  the  Convocation, 

•  Kc^  mn.  PariL  i.  IM.^ 


ihiii  Lltli   OF   THOMAS    SBEPAUU. 

and  to  ihc  bUhops,  but  cauld  obtain  no  relief.  Several  ministers 
were  imprisoneil  Tor  ihc  inexcusable  crime  of  asking  for  a  littk 
relief  from  the  rigor  with  wliicb  they  were  pursued  lo  ruin. 
Members  of  ParliamenI  were  sent  lo  the  Tower  for  speaking  in 
fuvor  of  the  miserable  Puritans.  Bills,  parsed  in  the  House  of 
Commons  for  their  relief,  were  sent  for  by  the  queen,  and 
cancelled ;  and  llie  Parliament  waa  peremptorily  forbidden  lo 
meddle  with  eccleaiastiCHl  affairs. 

Wearied  out  with  this  unrelenting  persecution,  which  drove  so 
mtmj  of  tlic  moat  useful  ministers  into  obscurity,  nnd  discour- 
aged by  the  stern  rejection  of  all  their  petitions  for  rulief,  the 
Puritans  began  lo  despair  of  any  further  reformation  of  the 
church  by  the  ruling  powers  i  and  in  one  of  their  a^semlitiea 
came  to  this  conclusion  :  "  That,  since  the  magistrate  could  not  be 
induced  to  reform  the  disci{iline  of  the  cliureh  by  so  many  pe- 
•lilions  and  supplications,  therefore,  after  so  many  years'  waiting. 
7  it  was  lawful  to  act  without  bim,  and  to  introduce  a  reformation 
in  the  best  manner  they  could."  ■ 

That  portion  of  the  Puritan  party,  however,  to  which  our 
fathers  belonged,  did  not  voluntarily  and  scbiamatically  separate 
from  the  church,  like  Brown  and  others,  who  renounced  hH 
communion  with  the  establishment,  not  only  in  ceremonies  and 
prayers,  but  in  hearing  the  word  and  sacraments,  nnd  refused  to 
rect^nize  it  as  a  true  church,  or  its  ministers  as  true  ministers 
of  the  gospel.  The  Nonconformists  generally  did  not  deserve 
the  name  of  Browniats,  which  they  someiimes  bore  through  ihc 
ignorance  or  malice  of  their  enemies.  They  doubtless  agreed 
with  the  separatists  in  opposing  (he  tyranny  and  super^'litions 
of  the  hierarchy,  and  in  maintaining  their  right  lo  worship  God 
according  to  the  dictates  of  llieir  consciences  enlightened  by  the 
Scriptures  ;  but  they  did  not  acknowledge  him  as  their  father. 
nor,  in  fact,  did  ihcy  agree  with  him  in  principle.  The  flniil  ex- 
clusion of  both  parlies  from  the  parent  church  was  brought  about 
by  the  same  cause,  namely,  the  oppression  which  they  suffered 

■  NenI,  i.  30R. 


MFK    OF    THOUAS    SUCl-AIIU. 


xlit 


B  the  bUbops ;  but  sameness  of  origin  is  no  proor  of  identitjr 

"  Xo  marTel,"  says  Collon,  "  if  we  take  it  ill  to  be 

I  Brownists,  ID  whole  or  in   pari ;  for  neither  in  whole  nor 

Hdo  we  pitrtakc  of  his  schism.     He  Mparated  from  churchel-^ 

d  from  saints  ;  we  only  from  ilie  world,  anil  that  which  is  of 

P'tfie  world.     We  were  not  baplized  into  his  name,  anil  why  should 

e  be  CKlleil  by  his  name  ?     The  Brownists  did  not  beget  us  to 

I  G<m)i  or  to  the  churcli,  or  to  their  schism  —  a  echism  which  us 

e   have   himenied  in   them,   as  a.  fruit  of  misguided,   ignorant 

!*1,  so  we  hnve  ever  bonic  wilticss   against  it  sinee  our  tiret 

KkiMwIcilge  of  it."* 

The  truth  is.  that  while  the  Puritans  deprecated  and  dreaded 

taepanUion  from  (be  church,  and  labored  in  all  suitable  ways  to 

■void   the   necessity  of  going   out  of  it,   there  was   an   evident 

deierrai nation  on  the  pan  of  the  ruling  powers  to  get  rid  of 

tbose,  whom,  for  fleeing  from  their  tyranny,  they  condemned  M 

■cparaiist!!.     It  was  the  opinion  of  the  stricter  reformers  geaer- 

^•By.  that  they  might  consistently  retain  tlieir  connection  with  thef 

E.psrenI  church,  which  they  acknowledged  to  be  a  true  church ; 

it  of  arbitrary  human  laws  upon  their  privileges, 

d  the  imposition  by  such  laws  of  corrupt  members,  canons  and 

'■  of  worship,  destroyed  neither  their  rights  nor  their  Chriftian 

iMmctfr:  and  ilint  since  a  separation  was  not  allowed  by  the 

;  liuwers,  and  the  organization  of  purer  churches  within 

iiigdom  was  im practicable,  they  ought  to  remain  in  the 

I.  groaning  under  their  burdens  and  laboring  for  her  ref- 

But  the  reigning  powers  were  very  willing  to  have 

tenlloua  people  excluded  from  the  fellowship  of  a 

ich  tltcy  loved  with  all  ber  faults. 

itehop  Sheldon  once  said  to  a  gentleman,  who  expressed 

I  regret  lliat  ibe  door  was  made  so  strait  that  many  sober 

Ftera  could  not  enter,  "  It  in  no  cause  of  regret  at  all ;  if  we 

1  tbtragbt  60  tnitny  of  them  would  have  contbrmed,  we  would 

e  it  ttiU  strniter." 

•  W«y  of  the  Congngationil  ChurcLvi,  p.  10. 


1  LIPE   OF  THOUAS   SSEPABD. 

The  sin  of  schism,  therefore,  which  has  been  so  often  charged 
upon  our  Con^rerralionsl  Tathcrs,  does  not  lie  nt  their  door.  Laud 
himself,  Che  greatest  enemy  ihe  Puritans  ever  had,  lays  it  down 
m  a  muxim,  that  *'  schism  is  theirs  whose  tlie  catue  of  it  is  i  and 
he  makes  the  se|»iratioD  who  gives  the  Jirst  caiue  of  it,  not  he 
that  makes  an  actual  separation  upon  a  just  cause  preceding." 
"  They  who  talk  bo  mucli  of  seels  and  divisions,"  says  Locke, 
"  would  do  well  to  consider  whether  those  are  not  most  authors 
and  promoters  of  sects  and  divisions,  who  impose  creeds  and 
ceremonies,  and  articles  of  men's  making,  and  make  things  not 
necessary  (o  salvfiiion  the  necessary  terms  of  communion ;  ex- 
cluding and  driving  from  ihem  such  as,  out  of  conscience  and 
persuasion,  con  not  assent  and  submit  to  them,  and  treating  ihem 
aa  if  ihey  were  utter  aliens  from  the  church  of  God,  and  such  as 
were  deservedly  shut  out  as  unfit  lo  be  members  of  it;  who 
narrow  Christianity  with  bounds  of  their  own  making,  which  the 
gospel  knows  nothing  of;  and  often,  for  things  in  themselves 
confessedly  indifferent,  thrust  men  out  of  their  c 
then  punish  ihem  for  not  being  of  iL"  * 


CHAPTER   rV. 

Sketch  of  English  eccksiaaticai  hislarj  continued.  —  Ateejsion  of  James 
1.  —  Hopes  of  Uio  Puritana.  —  Hamplon  Conrt  conference.  —  No  chnnge 
in  iho  Liturey. —  Confonnity  enjoined  by  proclamation.  —  Jamc&'a 
speech  lo  his  first  Parlinment.  —  Bishop  Baneraft's  measures. —  Furiuns 
divided  into  two  elas«u,  Confomiists,  and  Nonconformists. —  Vindication 
of  Nonconformists.  —  Story  from  Soman  history.  —  John  Hampden'i 
icfasal  to  pay  ship  money.  —  Grand  result  ofpersecnlion. 


,     Tbk  harassed  and  helpless  Puritans  had  looked  forward  with 
'<'  hope  (o  ihe  accession  of  James  I.     He  was  a  member  of  the 

Presbylerian  church  of  Scotland  and  had  often  professed  much 


LIFE  or  THOUAS    SHEPARD.  ll 

l^rmpatby  with  tliem  in  ibeir  afBictions.  Not  anticipating  the 
change  ihni  would  be  wrought  in  his  theological  notioiis  by  tlie 
prelate's  niaxiin,  "  No  bishop,  no  king,"  nor  dreaiaing  of  the 
eflect  which  would  be  produced  upon  his  "  northern  tonBlitution  " 
by  the  "southern  air  of  the  bishop's  breath,"  they  expected  that 
he  would  at  once  relieve  them  of  these  burdens.  He  ascended 
the  throne  of  England  iti  1603-;  and  \vhether  he  Iiad  always 
been  a  hypocrite,  or  whether  he  became  intoxicated  hj  the  flat- 
ttrj  of  the  hypocritical  bishops,  certain  it  is,  that  all  the  cheer- 
ing expectalioDB  of  ihoee  who  regarded  themselves  as  hb  brethren 
in  the  faith  of  Christ,  were  at  once  blasted  by  the  contemptuous 
and  oppressive  course  which  he  adopted  toward  them.  Upon 
hid  arrival  in  England,  a  petition,  signed  by  eight  or  nine  hun- 
dred ministers  of  the  gospel,  "  his  majesty's  most  humble  eub- 
jecte,"  praying,  not  for  a  "  disorderly  innovation,  but  a  godly 
reformation,"  in  the  ceremonies  and  discipline  of  the  church,  was 
presented  to  him. 

This  called  forth  a  bitter  attack  upon  the  Puritans  from  the 
bishops  and  the  universities,  and  produced  a  controversy,  which 
■fler  a  few  months  was  silenced  by  a  royal  proclamation,  in 
which  the  king  declared  his  aliachment  and  adherence  to  the 
established  church  ;  but  graciously  encouraged  the  petitioners  U> 
hope  for  a  conference,  in  which  the  nature  and  extent  of  their 
grierancea  would  be  examined.  This  conference,  or,  as  it  should 
Mtber  be  called,  the  trial  and  condemntition  of  the  Puritans,  was 
held  at  Hampton  Court,  on  the  14th  of  January,  1604,and  hence 
called  the  **  Hampton  Court  Conference."  \/ 

A  Tery  full  and  graphic  account  of  this  conference  is  found  in 
Fnller's  Church  History  of  England.  The  king  sat  as  modera- 
tpe  ;  but  in  the  dtsciission  he  became  the  chief  speaker  in  defence 
of  the  oppressive  proceeding  of  the  church,  and  assailed  the 
Kooeonforrotsts  with  much  coarse,  vulgar,  and  abusive  language. 
Aw  church  was  represented  by  nearly  all  the  bishops  and  deans  i 
and  Dr.  Beynolds,  Dr.  Sparks.  Mr.  Kncwstubs,  and  Mr.  Chad- 
derloo,  men  eminent  for  piety  and  learning,  and  held  in  high 
rwipect  bf  (be  people,  appeared  in  behalf  of  the  Nonconfbrmuts. 


i 


m  LffE    OF    THOMAS    sriK.-AIIl.. 

On  the  first  day  of  the  conference,  (he  king  made  a  sort  of  gntix- 
iMory  addresa  to  the  bishops  and  dwins  by  lliomselves,  in  whicli 
he  expressed  his  joy  that  ho  had  iwt,  like  Henry  VIII.,  Edward 
,V1.,  und  Queen  Eliznbeth,  to  alter  all  things,  but  merely  to  con- 
/flnn  what  he  found  well  settled ;  that  he  bad  been  brought,  by 
God's  good  providence,  into  the  promised  land,  where  religion 
■waa  purely  professed,  and  where  he  could  sit  among  grave, 
learned,  and  reverend  men,  not  as  before,  "  elsnchere,"  {not 
deigning  lo  name  poor  Scotland,)  a  king  wiihout  stale,  without 
lionoi',  without  order,  where  beardless  boys  would  sometimea 
brave  him  to  his  face;  and  declared  his  purpose  to  be,  like  a 
good  physician,  to  examine  and  try  the  complaints  of  the  people, 
and  fully  to  remove  ihe  occasions  of  them  if  scandalous  ;  to  cure 
them  if  dangerous  :  lo  take  knowledge  of  them  if  but  frii'oloua  ; 
thereby  to  cast  a  sop  into  tlie  mouth  of  Cerberus,  that  he  might 
burk  no  more ;  and  if  any  thing  should  be  found  necessary  to 
be  redressed,  that  it  should  be  done  "  without  any  visible  altera- 

On  Monday,  January  16,  the  advocates  of  the  Nonconformists 
were  admitted  to  the  conference,  and  the  king  made  a  "  pithy 
speech,"  winding  up  with  an  address  to  these  four  opposers  of 
conformity,  whom  he  IM  hpHrd  were  ilie  "  most  grave,  learned, 
and  modest  of  the  aggrieved  tort"  professing  himself  ready  to 
hear  what  they  had  to  object,  and  commanding  them  to  begin. 

Dr.  Reynolds.  "  All  things  disliked  or  questioned  may  be 
reduced  to  these  four  heads;  1.  That  the  doctrine  of  the  church 
might  be  preserved  in  purity,  according  to  Giod's  word,  2.  That 
good  pastors  might  be  placed  in  all  the  churches  to  preach  the 
same.  3,  That  ihe  church  government  might  be  sincerely  ad- 
minislercd  according  to  God's  word.  4.  That  the  Book  of  Coui- 
mon  Prayer  might  be  fitted  to  more  increase  of  piety.  For  the 
Brsl,  nuiy  your  raajesty  be  pleased,  that  the  articles  of  religion 
conuluded  on  in  15'>:2  be  explained  where  obscure,  and  enlarged 
where  defective."  And  here  the  doctor  referred  to  Articles  16, 
23,  and  25.  as  needing  revi^iion. 

Biikop  of  Laadoii.  (Bancroft.)     '■  May  It  please  your  majesty, 


LIFE   OF  TROHAS   SHEPABD. 


Uli 


fiuX  liie  ancient  canon  may  he  remembered,  Scliismatici  con- 
tra epiteopitt  RD7I  tJiiit  audiendi.     And  there  is  another  decree 
loient  council,  that  no  man  bIiouM  be  permitted  to 
i^>eak    ngaia«l   that   wberuunlo   he    hath    formerty  subscribed. 
And  as  for  jou.  Dr.  Reynolds,  nnd  jour  sociates,  how  much 
e  ye  bound  lo  hi^  muje^ty's  clemency,  pennitiing  you,  contrary 
the  Btaiule  |)rimo  Elizubelliic,  «o  freely  to  speak  against  the 
l(ur<!:y  and  discipline  established.     Fain  would  I  know  the  end 
lU  ajra  at,  and  whether  you  be  not  of  Mr.  Cartwrighl's  mind, 
who  affirmed  that  we  ought  in  ceremonies  rather  to  conform  to  the 
Turka  than  to  the  Papbta.      I  doubt  you  approve  his  position,  be- 
e  here  appearing  before  hi<i  mujesty  in  Turkey  gowns,  not  in 
jpur  acholasiic  habits,  answering  to  the  order  of  the  universities." 
7A«  King.     "  My  lord  bishop,  something  in  your  passion  I 
nay  excuse,  and  something  I  must  mtslike.     I  may  excuse  you 
Ikus  iiu-,  that  I  think  you  have  just  cause  to  be  moved,  in  respect 
it  they  traduce  the  well-settled  governmeht,  and  also  proceed 
in  *o  indecent  a  course,  contrary  to  their  own  pretense,  and  the 
intent  of  Iliis  meeting.     I  raislike  your  sudden  intermption  of 
Dr.  Reynolds,  whom  you  should  have  suffered  to  have  taken 
U*  liberty  1  for  there  is  no  order,  nor  can  be  any  eOecIual  issue 
;«f  disputation,  if  each  party  be  not  suffered,  without  chopping, 
Q  spcftk  at  large."     .     .     . 
Jlkv  JUjfneld*.     "The    catechism   in    the   Common    Prayer 
li  loo  brief,  and  that  by  Sir.  Nowell,  late  Dean  of  Paul's, 
jftw  novices  to  learn  by  heart.     I  request,  therefore,  that 
1  catechUm  may  be  made,  and  none  other  generally 
ired." 
e  King.     "  I  think  the  doctor's  request  very  reasonable, 
>  tluu  Ihe  catechism   may   be  made    in  the  fewest   and 
t  aArOMtive  terms  that  may  be.     And  herein  I  would 
0  rule*  obwrvcd.     First,  that  curious  and  deep  questions 
I  in<M»A  in  the  fundamental  instruction  of  a  people.     Seo 

t  there  sliould  not  be  so  general  a  departure  from  the  J 
I,  tbu  every  thing  should  be  accounted  an  error  in  which  ^' 
e  with  tbera." 


I 


M»  LITE 

Dr.  Regnoldt.  "Great  is  |]ip  profanation  of  the  Subbalb,  and 
contempt  of  your  majealy'a  proclaramion,  wLich  I  earnestly 
desire  raay  be  reformed." 

This  motion  was  unanimously  agreed  to. 

Dr.  Reyiioldt.  "  May  it  plcitse  your  raajcrtly  ihat  the  Bible 
be  new  translated ;  such  Irnn^lalions  as  are  extant  not  answering 
the  original."     And  he  instanced  in  three  particulars. 

Bithop  of  London.  "If  every  mau's  huiuor  might  be  fol- 
lowed, there  would  be  no  end  of  translating." 

TTie  Kittff.  "I  profess  I  could  never  yet  see  a  Bible  well 
IroDBlated  iu  Engliah.  I  wii^h  eome  special  pains  were  taken 
for  a  unifomi  translation,  wliieh  should  be  done  by  the  best 
learned  in  both  universities ;  (hen  reviewed  by  the  bisLops,  pre- 
sented to  the  privy  council,  lastly  rutiUed  by  royal  'authority,  to 
be  read  in  Ihe  whole  church,  and  no  other.  To  conclude  this 
point,  let  errors  in  matters  of  faith  be  amended,  and  indifferent 
i'  things  be  interpreted,  and  a  gloss  added  to  them.  A  church 
'  with  Boote  faults  is  better  ihnn  on  innovation.  And  surely,  if 
these  were  the  greatest  matters  that  grieved  you,  I  need  not 
have  been  troubled  with  such  importunate  coraplaitils."  .  .  . 
/  Dr.  Jiiynoli/i,  "And  now  to  proceed  to  the  second  general 
point,  concerning  the  planting  of  learned  ministers ;  I  desire 
they  be  in  every  parish." 

TKe  King.  ''  I  have  consulted  my  bishops  about  it,  whom 
I  have  fouud  willing  aud  ready  herein.  But  as  gvbiUt  evaeuatio 
is  perieuh*a,  so  iubita  mutatia.  It  can  not  presently  be  per- 
formed, the  universities  not  aB'ording  them."     .     .     . 

Bii/iop  of  London.  "  Beciiuse  this,  I  see,  is  a  time  of  moving 
petitions.  m;iy  I  humbly  present  two  or  three  to  your  majesty  ? 
First,  that  there  may  be  amongHt  ua  a  praying  ministry,  it 
being  now  come  to  pass,  tliat  men  think  it  the  only  duty  of  n)in- 
isters  to  upend  their  time  in  the  pulpiL  1  confess,  in  a  church 
newly  to  be  planted,  preachinp  is  most  necessary :  not  so  in  one 
long  established,  that  prayer  should  be  neglected." 

ne  King.  '■!  like  your  motion  exceeding  well,  and  dislike 
the  hypocrisy  of  our  time,  who  place  all  their  religtoti  iu  the 


IT,  whilst  prayer,  bo  rcqnbite  and  acceptable,  if  duly  performed, 

ncfounKd  and  used  as  the  ksst  jiarL  of  religion." 

SitAop  nf  London.  '*My  second  motion  is,  llial  unlU  learned 
men   may  l>e  planted  in  every  congregation,  godly  homilies  may 

read  therein." 

7X*  King.  "  I  approve  your  motion,  eepecially  where  the 
Eving  is  not  suDicifnt  fer  the  maintenance  of  a  learned  preacber. 
AIho  where  there  l>e  multitudes  of  sermons,  there  I  would  have 
bomilies  read  divers  time?."     .     .     . 

Ltfrd  ChanFfUor.  "  Livings  rather  want  learned  men,  than 
learned  men  want  livings ;  many  in  the  universities  pining  for 
of  places.  I  wish,  tlierefore,  some  may  have  single  coata 
(■me  living)  liefore  others  have  douiilets,  (pluralities,)  and  tfaia 
:4aHlhod  I  have  otwcrvcd  in  bestowing  the  king's  bcnetiues." 

Bithop  of  London.  "  I  commend  your  honorable  care  that 
my.  but  a  douhlel  is  neceesary  in  eold  weather.  Aty  last  motion 
{•,  that  pulpits  may  not  be  made  Pasquils,  wherein  every  diacoa- 
knled  fellow  may  traduce  his  superiois." 

Tht  King,  "  I  accept  what  you  offer,  for  the  pulpit  is  no 
phce  of  personal   reproof.     Let    them  complain  to  me,  if  in- 


Dt.  Rgynoids.  "  I  eome  now  to  srescRiPTiONS,  as  a  grear 
inpcuhment  to  a  learned  ministry,  and  therefore  entreat  that 
may  not  be  exacted  as  heretofore ;  fur  which  many  good  men 
■c  kept  out,  Ilioiigh  otherwise  witling  to  subscribe  to  ttie  statutes 
'  lite  realm,  nniclcs  of  religion,  and  iJie  king's  supremacy."  .  . 
'Jtk ■Xiimi'iluht.  "I  take  exceptions  to  the  cross  in  baplisra, 
iIk  weak  brethren  are  offended,  contrary  to  the  counsel 
le,  (Rum.  xiv.  and  2  Cor.  viii.)" 
Kng.  "DtMtingue  Itmpora,  et  euncordaburU  Seriptur«. 
the  difference  between  tho^  times  and  ourti.  Then,  u 
not  fully  settled  ;  now,  ours  long  establisbeil.  How  long 
brethren  bo  weak?  Ari*  not  forty-five  years  sulRcient 
to  grow  strong  in  ?  Besides,  who  pretends  this  weak- 
V  rrqnire  not  the  $ahscri|itioo  of  Uics  and  idiots,  but 
and  minUiers,  who  are  Dot  ttill,  I  trow,  to  be  f«d 


LIFE   OF  THOUAS    SHEPARD. 


will)  milk,  boing  enabled  to  feed  others.  Some  of  lliein  are 
Btrong  enoiigli,  if  not  headstrong ;  conceiving  themselves  able 
enough  to  teach  him  who  lost  Epake  for  them,  and  all  the  bishops 
in  the  land." 

Mr.  KftnPftuht.  "  It  ia  quesiionable  whether  the  church  bath 
power  to  institute  an  outward  significant  sign." 

Biihop  of  London.  '■  The  cross  in  buiitism  is  not  used  other- 
wise tlian  a  ceremony."     .     .     . 

The  Kivg.  "I  nra  exceeding  well  salisticd  on  this  point,  but 
would  be  acquainted  about  the  antiquity  of  the  use  of  the  cross." 

Dr.  Rfifiioldt.  "  It  bath  been  used  ever  since  the  apostles' 
time.  But  the  question  'a,  how  ancient  the  use  thereof  hath 
been  in  baptism." 

Dean  of  Westminster.  "  It  appears  out  of  Tertullian,  Cyprian, 
and  Origen,  that  it  was  used  in  immortalt  lavacro." 

Bithop  of  Winchetter,     "  In  Constantine's  time  it  was  used 

The  King.     "  If  so,  I  see  no  reason  but  we  may  continue 

Mr.  Knemtvbt.  "  If  the  church  hath  such  a  power,  the  great- 
est scruple  is,  how  fur  the  ordinance  of  the  church  hindeth,  with- 
out impeaching  Christian  liberty." 

The  King.  "  I  will  not  argue  that  point  with  you,  but  answer 
as  kings  in  Parliament,  Le  rny  M'aritera.  This  ia  like  Mr. 
John  Block,  a  beardless  boy,  who  told  me,  the  last  conference  in 
Scotland,  that  he  would  hold  conformity  with  his  majesty  in 
matters  of  doctrine,  but  every  man  for  ceremonies  was  to  be  left 
to"  hja  own  liberty.  But  I  will  have  none  of  that.  I  will  have 
I  I  one  doctrine,  one  discipline,  one  religion,  in  substance  and  cere- 
'  mony.  Never  speak  more  lo  that  point,  how  far  you  are  bound 
to  obey." 

Dr.  EeytioUt.  "  Would  that  the  cross,  being  supers  Li  I  iou  sly 
abused  in  Pojiery,  were  abandoned,  as  the  brazen  serpent  wits 
stamped  to  powder  by  He^ekinh,  because  abused  to  idolatry," 

T%e  King.  "  Inasmuch  as  the  cross  was  abused  to  Hupersti- 
Ijon  in.  time^^  ^9E^?i  ''  doth  plainly  imply  that  it  was  welt 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS   SHBPAHD.  Ivu 

tised  before.     I  deleft  their  coursCE,  who  peremptorily  dballow 

■  ti  ail  things  which  liuvo  bwn  nbuseil  in  Popery,  and  know  not 
'few  to  anjw«r  the  objections  of  ihe  Popisls  when  liiey  charge  as 

■with  nov^lticH.  but  by  telling  them  we  retain  the  primitive  use'-' 
of  things,  and  only  Torsake  their  novel  corruptions.     Secondly, 
no  reHenililance  between  the  brnzen  serpent  —  ii  nmlerial,  visible 
aign — &nd  the  sign  of  the  cross  made  in  the  air.     Thirdly, 
Fnpisis,  as  I  am  informed,  never  did  ascribe  any  spiritual  grace 

■  to  the  cross  in  baptism.  Lastly,  malfriai  crowet.  10  which  the 
people  fell  down  in  time  of  Popery,  (us  the  idolatrous  Jews  lo  the 
IvKzon  serpent,)  are  already  demulished,  aa  you  desire." 

Mr.  Kiutextubt.  "  1  lake  exception  &l  tlie  wearing  of  the  sui^ 
plicc,  a  kind  of  garment  used  by  the  priests  of  Isis." 

The  King.  "  I  did  not  think,  till  of  late,  it  had  been  borrowed 
from  the  heathen,  because  conunonly  called  a  rag  of  Popery. 
Seeing  now  we  border  not  upon  heatliens,  neither  nre  any  of 
Ihcm  conversant  with,  or  commorant  among  us,  thereby  lo  be 
eonfirmed  in  paganism,  I  see  no  reason  but  for  comeliness'  sake 
It  may  he  retained."     ,     .     . 

Dr.  Reynoldt.  "  I  desire,  that  according  lo  certain  provin- 
m1  constitutions,  the  clergy,  may  have  meetings  every  three 
weeka." 

Tht  King.  "  If  you  aim  at  a  Scottish  Preabytery,  it  agreeth 
W  well  with  monarchy  as  God  and  the  devil.  Then  Jack,  nnd 
Tom,  and  Will,  and  Dick  shall  meet  and  censure  me  ami  my 
council.  Therefore  I  reiternte  my  former  speech,  Lf  roy  s'avi- 
ttra :  sluy,  I  pray,  for  one  ?even  years,  before  you  demand,  and 
tbvn  if  you  l)nd  me  grow  pursy  and  fat,  I  may  [lerchance  hearken 
ta\o  you,  for  that  government  will  keep  me  in  breath,  and  give 
■e  work  enoagh.  ,  .  .  I  shall  here  speak  of  one  mailer  more, 
Moewbu  out  of  order,  but  it  »killeth  not.  Dr.  Reynolds,  you 
nre  ofl«a  tpoken  for  my  supremncy,  and  it  is  well.  But  know 
roa  aoy  here,  or  elsewhere,  who  [ike  of  the  present  government 
•eeleciwltctil,  and  dislike  my  supremacy  ?" 
Dr.  Rfjfuoldt.  "  I  know  none." 
7%«  &mg.     ..."  My  lurdit  the  bishops,  I  may  thank  you 


IvHi  LIFE   OP  THOMAS    SnKI'ARD, 

tlmt  ihese  men  plead  ihus  for  ray  supremacy.  They  think  they 
can  not  make  good  (heir  party  against  you  but  by  appealing  uiilo 
it ;  but  if  once  you  weri;  out,  and  tbey  in,  I  know  what  would 
'  become  of  my  supremacy;  for,  No  Bishop,  vo  King.  I  have 
learnt  of  what  cut  they  have  been,  who,  preaching  before  me 
since  my  coming  into  England,  passed  over  with  silence  my 
being  supreme  governor  in  causeB  ecclesiastical.  Well,  doctor, 
have  you  any  thing  else  lo  say?" 

I}r,  Reynolds.     "  No  more,  if  it  please  your  majesty." 

The  King,  "  If  this  be  all  your  parly  hath  to  say,  1  will 
make  them  conform  themselvea,  or  ebe  I  will  harry  them  out  of 
the  land,  or  else  do  worse." 

Here  ended  the  second  day's  conference.  The  third  was  held 
on  the  Wednesday  following.  After  some  discourse  between  the 
king,  the  bishops,  and  the  lords  respecting  the  proceedings  of 
the  Court  of  High  Commission,  the  four  Nonconformists  were 
called  in,  and  such  alterationa  in  the  Liturgy  as  the  bishops,  by 
the  advice  of  the  king,  had  made,  were  read  to  them,  and  to 
which  their  silence  was  taken  for  consent. 

The  King.  "  I  see  the  exceptions  against  the  Cammunioo 
•  Book  are  matters  of  weakness  ;  therefore,  if  the  persons  reluctant 
be  discreet,  they  will  be  won  betimes,  and  by  good  persuasions  : 
if  indiscreet,  better  they  were  removed,  for  by  their  factions 
many  are  driven  lo  he  Papists.  From  you,  Dr.  Reynolds,  and 
your  asMciates,  I  expect  obedience  and  humiiity,  (the  marks  of 
honest  and  good  men,)  and  that  you  would  persuade  others 
abroad  by  your  esampte." 

Dr.  Rtynoldt.  "  We  here  do  promise  lo  perform  all  duties  to 
bisthops  as  revered  fathers,  and  to  join  with  them  against  the 
common  adversary,  for  the  quiet  of  the  church." 

Mr.  Chadderion.  "  I  request  that  the  wearing  of  the  surplice 
and  the  cross  in  baptism  may  not  be  urged  on  some  godly 
ministers  in  Lancashire,  fearing,  if  forced  unto  them,  many,  won 
by  their  preaching  of  the  gospel,  will  revolt  lo  Popery." 

The  King.  "  It  is  not  ray  purpose,  and  I  dare  say  it  is  not 
the  bishop's  intent,  presently,  and  out  of  hand,  to  enforce  these 


Ihuigs,  without   fatherly  ndmoahions,  conferences,  and  |>ersi]a- 
iions,  prcmi^d.''     .     .     . 

Mr.  KiietBiilubi.  "  I  request  the  like  favor  of  forbearance  to 
■ome  honest  miaiaters  in  Suffolk,  for  it  will  make  much  against 
ttieir  credit  in  the  countr?  to  be  now  forced  to  the  surplice  and 
«roea  in  baptism." 

Arvhbuhop  of  Cvnlrrbury.  "Nay,  sir." 
7J*  Kirtff.  "  Let  me  alone  lo  answer  him.  Sir,  you  show 
lur^elf  an  uncliarilablc  man.  We  have  here  taken  pains,  and, 
fa)  the  end,  Imvc  concluded  on  unity  and  uniformity,  and  you, 
f(ir»ooib,  must  prefer  the  credits  of  a  few  private  men  be- 
Jbre  the  peace  of  the  church.  This  is  just  the  Scotch  argu- 
■tenC,  when  any  thing  was  concluded  which  disliked  some  liu- 
Lct  them  either  contbrm  them^ives  shortly,  or  they 
•boll  hear."  *     .     .     . 

AAer  a  few  words  respecting  ombuling  and  silting  communion, 
thb  famous — if  it  should  not  mther  be  called  infamous  —  con- 
lereiice  ended;  and  with  it  all  the  hopes  which   ihe   Puritans 
had  cherished  of  relief  from   [he   intolerable  bondage  in  wbiclr.v' 
ihey  were  held  by  the  bishops.      Fuller  remarks,  ihat  m  ihia 
conference  some  thought  that  James  "went  above  himself;"  that 
Ihe  Siehop  of  London,  the  violent    Bancroft,  "  appeared  even 
witi)  himself;"  and  that  Dr.  Reynolds  "fell  much  beneath  him- 
•clf-"     But  we  must  remember  that  the  report  of  those  proceed- 
ings was  originally  made  by  a  professed  enemy  of  the  Puritan 
■divincft,  who  was  na  much  inclined  lo  flatter  the  pedantic  vanity 
of  the  king,  and  to  glorify  the  bishops,  as  he  was  to  misrepresent 
fllic   ch^ractiT  and    the  arguments  of  tliose  whom   lie   hated. 
*  When  the  Isrorlitcs  go  down  to  tlie  Philistines  lo  whet  all  their 
louls,  no  wonder  if  ihey  set  a  sharp  edge  on  their  own,  and 
blunt  one  on  their  enemies'  weapons,"  as  Fuller  charitably 
ierve«.     The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  went  so  far  as  to 
:lue  hi*  belief  diat  his  roujesiy  spoke  by  the  especial  assistance 
God's  Spirit;  and  Buucroft  "  appeared  only  even  with  him* 

*  Follcr'i  Chorch  Uiitotj,  book  z.  pp.  7-al. 


Ix  LIFK   OF   THOMAS    BQePARD. 

aelf,"  when  lie  exclaimed,  "  I  protest  that  niy  heart  meltelh  with 
joj,  that  Almighty  God,  of  hia  singular  mercy,  lialh  given  ns 
such  a  king,  as,  since  ChriHt's  time,  the  like  halh  not  been." 
But  Sir  J.  Harrington,  who  was  present,  remarked,  in  reference 
to  the  archbishop's  blasphemods  flattery,  that  the  spirit  by  which 
that  king  spoke  waa  "rather  foul  mouthed;"  that  he  used 
expressions  wbi(;h  it  would  not  be  decent  to  repeat ;  and  that 
he  'rc^rted  to  abuse  rather  than  argument,  bidding  ibe  petition' 
era  to  "  away  with  their  sniveling."  James  himself,  in  a  letter  to 
some  nanielefis  Scotch  correspondent,  describes  the  part  he  played 
in  the  conference  in  the  following  style ;  "  We  have  kept  such 
a  revell  with  the  Purilnns  here  this  two  days  as  van  never  heard 
the  like.  Qubaire  I  have  pepered  them  as  soundlie  as  yee  have 
done  the  Papists  Ihnii-e.  It  were  no  reason,  that  those  that  will 
refuse  the  airy  sign  of  the  cross  after  baptism  should  have  their 
purses  stuffed  with  any  more  solid  and  substantial  crosses,  .  .  . 
I  have  sueh  a  book  of  theirs  as  may  well  convert  infidels,  but  it 
shall  never  convert  me,  except  by  turning  me  more  earnestly 
against  thayme." 

We  can  sec  clearly  enough  (brongh  all  the  clouds  of  prejudice 
and  passion  in  which  that  scene  has  been  enveloped,  that  the 
"  demands  of  the  Puritans  were  perfectly  reasonable,  and  pre- 
Benled  in  the  humblest  and  most  unobjectionable  manner;  while 
on  the  part  of  the  king  and  the  bishops,  there  was  not  even  the 
appearance  of  a  desire  to  heal  the  divisions  of  the  church  by 
modifying  the  arbitrary  and  tyrannical  measures  which  produced 
I  them,  but,  on  ilic  contrary,  a  manifest  determination  to  make  the 
Puritans  conform  to  every  thing  contained  in  a  semi-Popish  Lii- 
ilT^',  or,  as  James  himself  once  railed  it,  "an  ill-said  muss  in 
l^nglish,"  by  the  Ici-ror  of  fines,  imprisonment,  and  bnnistiment 
from  their  country.  This  conference  seems  to  have  been  a  prov- 
idential opportunity  for  healing  the  distractions  of  the  church, 
anil  of  esiablishing  a  true  Christian  union  upon  the  ba-^is  of  God'a 
word.  But  it  was  wickedly  lost  through  liie  worldly  policy  of 
the  bishops,  and  the  arbitrary  principles  and  cowardice  of  the 
king,  who  flattered  the  hierarchy  to  secure  its  support  of  the 


fib 


i 


throne,  itnil  feared  the  Purilans  for  llieir  r 
•reign  will.  Had  the  ruling  powers  at  this  time  followed  the 
'SdTJce  of  Mine  of  ihe  wisest  and  most  pious  divines  iD  their  own 
•bnrch,  or  the  example  of  the  reformer  itbroud  who  took  the 
Bcripturea,  and  not  a  t'orrupt  tradition,  for  iheir  guide  Id  the  work 
of  reformation,  tliey  might  have  prevented  a  division  as  disgrace- 
fyi  as  it  was  disastrous  in  its  ctinwqiiences  to  tUem. 

Bat  ibev,  iu  their  blindness,  deemed  il  best  W  retain  everyi/ 
■  tiling  which  troubled  llie  consciences  of  the  most  devout  portion 
af  the  church.  The  only  good  thing  done  bjr  tliem  at  this  coii- 
Cm^ucv  was,  oonsenting  to  a  new  translation  of  the  Bible,  or  ^ 
nUier  a  careful  revision  and  comparison  of  all  the  translations 
then  in  u&e.  A  very  few  trifling  alterations  in  the  prescriiied 
.ce  wore  agreed  upon  by  the  king  and  the  bishops :  and  then 
'  ft  royal  proclamation  ytae  issued,  iMmmanding  all  the  people  to 
conform  to  the  doctrines  and  discipline  of  the  established 
'  «Lurcb,  as  the  only  form  to  be  tolerated  in  the  kingdom,  and 
•liioonishing  the  malconlcnis  not  (o  expect  any  fiirllu;r  alieraiiun 

r  wliof.     The  Common  Prayer  Book  was  iiceonlingly  printcd^'^'^ 
vbh  lho»e  inconsiderable  Hmcndmeiits,  and    the    pruclamaliun 
pnliscd,  like  the  cherubim  with  flnming  sword  guarding  tlie  tree 
flfUfe. 

Jainea  opened  his  firat  Parliament  with  a  cliaraeleristic 
Ipoccli,  in  which  he  acknuwledgi-d  the  Romish  church  to  be 
*aur  Molhrr  Church,"  and  professed  Lis  willingnegs  to  mwt  1/' 
iw  Papitts  half  way,  fur  the  sake  of  bringing  about  a  union  of 
:|l)i?  lau  religious,  at  lite  same  lime  denouncing  the  Puritans  as  a 
■•(ect  ituuflerablo  in  any  well-governed  cotamonwcnlih."  The 
CooTooition,  which  sal  at  iho  tmuie  time,  were  very  active  in 
hying  marca,  aud  pre|iaring  wea|K>ns,  for  the  unfortunate  sect 
a*  placed  tinder  the  curse  of  the  realm.  They  drew  up  a 
ok  of  one  hundred  and  forty  cauons,  according  to  which,  sus- 
wion  and  deprivation  being  regarded  as  too  light  a  punish- 
cnt  for  lb«  enoruuius  sin  uf  Nonconfonaily,  all  who  refused  to 
nfonn  were,  ipto  J'ncto,  e scorn uiuniealcd  and  east  out,  aa  hefc- 
m  moA  publicans,  from  llie  fellowship  uial  protection  of'lM 
rOL.  1.  / 


llii  LIFE    OF  THOMAS   8HEPARD. 

v' churcli 'ftnd  slttte.  By  these  canons  all  Nonconformists  were 
rendered  incapable  of  bringing  actions  at  law  for  the  recovery 
of  their  legal  debts ;  were,  by  process  of  tho  civil  courts,  to  bo 
imprisoned  for  life,  or  until  they  should  _give  satisfaction  to  the 
church ;  were  to  be  ciposed  to  every  form  of  temporal  evi!  in 
this  world,  and  lo  be  denied  Christian  burial  after  death  ;  and  if 
the  power  of  tlie  bishops  hiid  extended  into  tlie  other  world, 
would  have  been  eternally  excluded  from  the  fellowship  of  just 
men  made  perfect.  These  canons  were  ratified  by  llie  king, 
who,  at  the  same  time,  commanded  that  thej  should  be  dili- 
gently observed  and  executed ;  that  every  parish  minister  should 
read  them  over  once  every  year  in  his  church,  before  divine 
service  ;  and  that  all  persons  having  ecclesiastical  jurisdiction 
should  sec  ihem  put  in  execution,  and  not  fail  lo  inflict  the  full 
penally  upon  every  one  who  should  purposely  violate  or  neglect 
them.' 

On  the  death  of  Archbishop  Whitgift,  who,  though  an  enemy 
Bud  a  persecutor  of  the  Puritans,  was,  comparatively,  a  moder- 

'  ate  man,  Bancroft,  Bishop  of  Loudon,  who  was  the  most  irasci- 
ble and  abusive  speaker,  next  to  the  king,  in  the  Hampton  Court 
conference,  succeeded  to  the  archiepiscopal  chair.  Bancroft 
waa  a  man  of  a  savage  temper  and  most  arbitrary  principles  ; 
and  what  Wliitgift  strove  to  accomplish  by  comparatively  mild 
measures,  he  resolved  to  do  at  once  by  an  exterminating  rigor. 
He  revived  the  persecution  with  such  severity  that,  in  1605,  the 
year  of  Mr.  Shepard's  birth,  about  three  hundred  ministers  were 
silenced,  turned  out  from  llicir  parishes,  or  otherwise  punished, 
for  refusing  subscriplion  ;  and  yet  of  the  sufferers  in  eight  bish- 
oprics, no  account  was  taken.  These  ministers  bad  preached  in 
the  church  from  ten  to  thirty  years ;  and,  in  many  churches,  the 
ceremonies  had  been  laid  aside  for  a  long  time.  Some  of  these 
ministers    were   excommunicated   and   imprisoned,   and  others 

^forced  into  exile  —  "harried  out  of  the  kingdom,"  as  James 
inaolently  threatened  they  should  be,  if  they  did  not  conform, 

*  Bcnnet,  Mem.  cb.  iil.    NmI,  Hiat.  Farit.  I.  433. 


LIFE   OP  THOMAS   BBEFARD. 


Uudi?r  ih«  intolcraDt  measures  now  adopled  and  ialiesiblj  ad- 
hered (o,  manj'  good  men  strove  to  conform,  nnd  succeeded  in 
coBvincing  tbemselvcs  that  they  were  doing  God  service  in 
conlorming  lo  llie  esiablixbud  order.  Hence  ibosc  wbo  most 
eame^llj  desired  to  see  a  Iborougb  reformation  of  the  church 
were  divided  into  two  parties,  distinguished  at  the  time,  and 
well  known  since,  as  Conformist  and  NoncvnformUtM.  Of  the"-^ 
tint  clais  was  Dr.  Reynolds,  who,  at  the  Hampton  Court  con- 
ference, »olemnly  promised  "lo  perform  all  duties  to  bishops,  aa 
reverend  fatliers,  and  to  join  with  them  against  the  common  ad- 
versary, for  the  quiet  of  ihe  church."  Dr.  Sparks,  alio,  another 
of  tlie  representatives  of  Puriianism  in  that  unhappy  confer- 
ence, lo  which  the  petitioners  were  called,  "  not  lo  have  their 

-uples  removed,"  but  to  hear  [lie  king's  *'  pleasure  propound- 
ed," went  home  a  convert  to  the  doctrine  of  the  bishops,  and 
I  afler  published  a  Treatise  of  Unity  luid  Uniformity. 
"  Uencefurward,"  says  Fuller,  "  many  cripples  in  conformity  wero 
cured  of  ibeir  former  halting  therein,  and  those  who  knew  not 
their  own,  till  they  knew  the  king's  mind,  in  this  matter,  for  the 
future,  quietly  digested  the  ceremonies  of  the  cliurch."  Of  the 
klier  class  were  our  Congregational  father?,  wbo  were  willing  Uy^ 
suffer  the  loss  of  all  things  rather  than  conform  lo  a  ritual  of  . 
huiiuui  origin,  imposed  with  irresisiible  human  power. 

It  has  been  often  urged,  in  reproach  of  the  Xonconformtals, 
liat  while  ibcy  cordially  consented  to  the  dodrinet  of  the  church, 
which  were  the  only  essential  things,  they  obstinately  refused  lo 
perform  a  few  ctremoniet,  which  were  in  themselves  indifferent  ;- 
and  professing  lu  hoitor  the  church  as  their  "dear  mother," 
Uindly  lied  from  her  communion,  and  put  her  very  existence  in 
jeopardy  for  the  take  of  getting  rid  of  an  "  airy  cross,"  and 
mtne  genuttectiuns  which  could  do  no  one  any  liarm. 

Xbauu  would  be  some  appearance  of  justice  in  this  charge,  if 
» in  quctilioa  had  been  regarded,  at  Ihat  time,  by  any 
Kiailiffervnt  things,     liut  nothing  is  more  evident  than 
\  Ihe  ggvemmeni  and  ihc  Puritans  considered  the  quea- 
riAiolute  and  universal  conformity  a  question  of  life  and^ 


Mr  1.1PK    OF    THOMAS    .lIlRPARn. 

dCAlli.     The  only  ground  upon  which  the  chiireli  ^^a^  be  in  any 
degree  Junilied  in  its  unyieltliug  demands  ia,  lliai  she  regardpd 

V  every  part  of  the  prescribed  Liturgy  easenlial.  If  those  rites 
and  ceremouies  were,  in  the  judgtnent  of  (he  government,  really 
indifferent  matters,  it  was  moat  nnju^t  and  cruel  on  their  pnrt  to 
roramand  every  ndult  person  in  England  to  pruclice  them  against 
the  seruples  of  even  a  weak  conscieni-e,  upon  pain  of  ruinouB 
fines,  imprisonment,  or  perpetual  banishment.  It  is  said  that  Dr. 
Burgess,  once  preaching  before  King  James,  and  touching  lightly 
upon  the  ceremonies,  related  the  following  story,  by  whieh  he  in- 
tended to  illustrate,  in  n  quiet  wny,  the  inhumanity  of  the  bishops 
in  perseeuting  the  Puritans :  Augustus  Cwsar  was  once  invited 
to  dinner  by  a  Roman  senator,  who  was  distinguished  for  his 
wealth,  power,  and  magnificent  living.  As  the  emperor  entered 
the  house,  he  heard  a  great  outcry,  and,  upon  looking  about,  he 
saw  several  persons  dragging  a  man  after  them,  with  the  design, 
apparently,  of  killing  him,  while  the  poor  fellow  was  begging 
most  piieously  for  meroy,  Tlie  emperor  demanded  the  cause  of 
thatvioknce,  and  was  told  that  their  master  had  condemned  this 
man  to  the  fish  ponds  for  breaking  a  very  valuable  glass.  He 
commanded  a  ^tay  of  the  execution  :  and  when  lie  came  into  the 
.  house,  asked  the  senator  whether  he  had  glasses  that  were  worth 
a  man's  life.  He  answered,  being  a  great  connoisseur  in  such 
things,  that  he  owned  glasses  which  he  valued  at  the  price  of  a 
province.  The  emperor  desired  to  see  these  marvelous  glasses, 
and  was  taken  to  a  room  where  a  large  number  were  displayed. 
He  saw  that  they  were  indeed  beautiful  to  the  eye.  but  know- 
ing ttiat  they  had  been,  and  might  siill  be,  the  cause  of  much 
mischief,  he  dashed  them  al!  to  atoms,  with  this  expression : 
"  Better  that  all  these  perish  than  one  man."  The  bishops, 
however,  for  whose  especial  benefit  this  story  was  told,  were 
greatly  enraged,  instead  of  being  convinced  hy  the  illustration. 
They  thought  the  ceremonies  worth  the  lives  of  a  thousand  men ; 

^snd  they  succeeded  in  getting  the  doctor  silenced  for  daring  to 
think  otherwise. 

On  the  other  hand,   the  nonconforming   Puritans,   if    they 


LIFE   OF  THOUAS   BHEPABD. 


floald  bsTC  regurded  these  ihinga  as  imlifferent  in  Ihemselves, 
MhiM  do  longer  ri^gard  them  as  iiidifTerenl  when  the^  were  im- 
poswl  hj  the  slate,  under  severe  penalties,  as  essential  to  the 
aocepiable  worahip  of  God.  They  did  not  object  to  the  use  of 
toTtaa  of  prayer ;  there  were  many  things  in  the  Common  Prayer 
fiook  which  they  could  use  with  a  good  conscience  ;  and  if  any 
bitudc  had  heen  allowed,  they  would  never  have  separated  I'roiu  /■ 
Uw  church.  But  they  saw  the  misckiejC  sf  human^uthorily  in 
relation  to  religiouii  worship,  and  could  not  acknowledge  that 
ibe  rangiatraie  had  power  to  impose  a  body  of  mere  ceremonies 
npoD  those  nhom  Christ  had  freed  from  the  bondage  of  the  cere- 
Bonial  law.  '•  We  reject,"  saya  one  of  those  Nonconformists, 
"those  forms  of  prayer  and  of  public  worship  which  are  imposed 
Vpon  the  consciences  of  men  by  human  power,  as  cMuntial  parU 
flf  divine  service.  Although  as  to  the  matter  of  them  they  might  , 
be  lawfully  observed,  yet  by  the  manner  in  which  they  are  intrdt^ 
dncnl,  they  become  the  instruments  of  cruelty,  and  occasions  of 
oatrageous  tyranny  over  the  best  and  most  worthy  sons  of  the 

And  when  we  remember  that  this  book  contained  the  only 
ftrm  of  worship  allowfil  in  England.  —  that  every  part  of  it,  , 
.without  exception,  was  made  a  matter  of  necessity,  and  not  of  v-^ 
choice, — that  not  only  the  ministers  were  required  to  use  the 
vbole  of  it,  but  that  every  adult  pei-son  in  the  kingdom  was 
oblig«<I  to  be  present  at  the  celebration  of  this  service,  and  to 
take  an  active  part  in  the  worahip  by  repeating  a  certain 
of  words,  and  performing  certain  rites  and  ceremonies, 
!•—  the  refusal  of  our  fathers  to  conform  seems  not  only  defen-      , 

imperatively  demanded    by  their  higher  relation  tov 

Christ.     For,  as  Shepard  well  observes,  the  very  yielding  of 

formity  to  such  a  ser\'ice  would  "  miserably  cast  away  the 

ty    purchased    hy    Christ    for    his    people,    inlhrall     the 

ittn:fac«  to   Antichrist,     and    11(1  up    tlie  power  of  Antichrist 

hm  tyruinous  usurpation  upou  the  churches  of  Chri«l."t 


*  ApoL  cb.  vii.  Q.  3. 


t  Treutiso  of  Liiur^ica.  I'rcrace. 


IXVi  LIFE    or  THOMAS    BUEPARD. 

When  Ilampdeo,  a  few  j^eara  lafer,  resisted  the  illegal  re- 
quirement sf  Charles  I.  witli  respect  lo  ship  money,  and  for 
a  few  shillings  was  willing  to  plunge  the  nation  into  H  eivil  war, 
he  was  hailed  ns  a  iioblc  chutnpion  of  eivil  liberty.  Why,  then, 
should  our  fathers  be  branded  as  narrow-minded  bigol:^,  and 
wicked  disturbers  of  the  peace  of  the  church,  for  refusing  obe- 
dience to  demands  whieli  no  human  governor  has  a  right  to 
make,  and  asserting  a  liberty  guarantied  by  the  great  charter 
of  the  kingdom  of  God  ? 

But  ihe  Puritans  did  not  consider  the  Common  Prayer  Book, 
in  all  its  parts,  a  matter  of  indijfertnre  iji  tUetf,  and  lo  be 
reeisted  only  because  it  was  imposed  hy  the  secular  power  with- 
out warrant  from  tlie  Scriptures.  While  they  freely  acknowl- 
edged that  God  might  be  acceptably  worfihiped  by  forms  of 
prayer,  they  regarded  this  particular  book  as  unsuitable  for  public 
worship,  and  as  a.  grievous  burden  upon  their  <»)n sciences.  The 
.grounds  of  tlieir  objection  to  the  use  of  this  liturgy  were,  thai  it 
V  was  taken  from  the  Roman  Mass  Book,  which  had  been  Ihe 
means,  in  their  opinion,  of  tilling  the  church  with  idolalr}'  and 
'/superstition,  and  though  purged  from  some  of  the  greater 
abominations  of  the  mass,  could  not  be  used  without  sanctioning 
the  idolatrous  woi'ship  of  Rome;  that  it  claimed  for  human 
rulers  unlimited  power  to  decree  rights  and  ceremonies  for  the 
church  —  a  power  which  obviously  belongs  to  Christ  alone,  aa 
the  I<ord  and  Lawgiver  of  the  church ;  tlml  it  set  a|iart  many 
holidays,  and  instituted  feasta  whiuh  were  enforced  in  the  spirit- 
ual courts  by  civil  penalties ;  that  it  annexed  human  ceremonies 
to  certain  jwris  of  worship  which  savored  strongly  of  idolatry, 
and  therefore  not  to  be  tolerated  in  the  church,  as  the  surplice, 
the  sign  of  the  cross  in  baptism,  kneeling  before  the  bread 
and  wine  in  Ihe  Lord's  supper,  etc.  Kneeling  at  the  sacrament 
was  especially  otfensive  to  them,  becaitse  it  was  a  tieslure  re- 
quired by  the  Papists  as  an  act  of  adoration,  the  object  of  which 
was  the  real  body  of  Christ,  guppose<l  to  be  present  in  the  bread 
and  wine.  "The  mass,"  says  John  Drury,  *'  is  the  greatest  idol 
in  the  world,  and  the  act  of  kneeling  was  brought  in  at  the 


EPA£i>.  Ixvli 

Popt»h  comrauaion  to  worship  that  idol.  We  ought  not  to 
«jmboli£e  witli  Ibeui  in  that  art  of  worsbip  ;  we  oaght  not  to  fbl- 
lUe  corruption  of  an  unlinantrc  when  we  have  Christ's  pnicticfl 
■Bmlf?  known  to  us.  It  is  not  lawful  to  mix  the  acts  of  God's  true 
^Worship  with  the  chief  act  of  an  iJol  worehip.  such  as  is  kneeling 
at  the  maa»,  For  the  meaning  nnd  purpose  of  kneeling  is  adora- 
tioa  ;  lh«  slijeet  of  iiilarution  is  the  body  and  bluud  of  Ciirisl, 
ipposed  lo  be  in  the  element!).  But  if  we  believe  no  eucb  real 
{nrscneo  &s  ihey  hnve  fancied,  then  wc  make  void  the  object  of 
Mdorntion,  and  canaequentlj'  the  act  intended  towanis  it  is  dls- 
■nnalled  also."  * 

We  Ma,  (hen.  that  conformity  was  not  a  question  at  mere  ex- 
pediency, but  of  right  and  wrong^,  of  obedience  and  sin.  **  Wei> 
■re  not,"  eaid  our  fathers,  "to  dissemble  iviih  God  nor  men. 
Oar  separation  were  needless  and  sinful,  if  we  did  not  consider 
confurmily  unful  in  some  degree.  And  in  that  cose,  to  pntclicB 
it  is  to  tell  the  world,  if  sinwriij  be  left  among  men,  that  w€ 
jKcouni  it  nil  lawful  or  tolerable  lo  us,  though  not  simply  eligible. 
We  therefore  dare  not,  by  practice,  violate  our  consciences,  and  i- 

dwtroy  our  avowed  principles.  Nor  will  persons  of  wiy  can- 
dor and  Christian  charity  tbink  this  a  humor  of  opposition ;  for 
Ibrr  know  that  among  us  have  been,  and  nre,  meu  of  sober 
ninds  Mid  tried  integrity;  men  of  good  sense  and  learning; 
of  grcDi  ability  and  usefulness  in  church  and  state ;  men 
who  relished  tdso  the  comforts  of  iheir  life  nnd  families  as  others 
who  greatly  valued  an  opportunity  of  serving  their 
^neralion,  nnd  thfir  dc-ur  Redeemer  in  tlie  gospel  niinisiry  ;  men 
•bo  would  not  for  trifles  enpose  themselves  lo  poverty,  contompt, 
icnrity.  prisons,  merciless  Suns,  eiile,  and  death  itself.  This 
we  a  bumor  indeed."  t 

It  Is  tad  lo  contemplate  the  intolerant  and  oppressive  measures 
part  of  the  church  against  another,  and  to  wit- 
IM  tbs  caUmiious  eflecls  which  resulted  from  the  persecuting 

y."     •  Modil  of  Cfaarch  Gavcrnnienl.  pp.  40,  «1.    1648 
(  Letter  of  Noncanformiag  MinliMn,  p-  T.  ITOI. 


IXViii  LIFE   OF  THOMAS    SHEPARD. 

Bpirit  of  those  times  —  the  fines,  imprisonments,  biuiishments, 
deaths,  bj  which  the  faith  and  patience  of  the  saints  were  so 
severely  tried  ;  but  at  the  saaie  time  it  ia  instructive  and  consol- 
ing [o  direct  our  thoughts  to  what  time  has  shown  to  have  been 
4the  ultimate  design  of  Providence,  in  permitting  those  disastrona 
scenes  to  exist.  A  new  world  was  to  be  created.  A  pure 
church  was  to  be  planted  far  away  from  the  enormous  corrup- 
tions and  abuses  of  old  Christendom ;  and  persecution  was  to 
people  the  wilderness  with  a  chosen  generation,  —  a.  royal 
priesthood,  —  who  should  worship  God  io  the  spirit,  and  magni- 
fy the  divine  law  by  holy  obedience. 

The  authors  of  the  Epistle  dedicatory  to  Sliepard's  Clear  Sun- 
shine of  the  Gospel  upon  the  Indians  of  Kew  England  have 
given  a  beautiful  expression  to  this  thought :  "  That  God,  who 
oflen  makes  men's  evil  of  sin  serviceable  lo  the  advancement 
of  the  riches  of  his  grace,  has  shown  that  he  had  merciful  ends 
in  the  malicious  purpose  wliich  drove  our  fathers  from  England. 
As  he  suffered  Paul  to  be  cast  into  prison,  to  convert  the  jailer; 
to  be  shipwrecked  at  Melita,  to  preach  to  the  barbarians  i  so  he 
suffered  their  way  lo  be  slopped  up  here,  and  their  persons  to  be 
banished  hence,  that  he  might  open  a  passage  for  them  in  the 
wilderness,  and  make  them  instruments  to  draw  souls  to  him, 
who  had  been  so  long  estranged  froiu  him.  ...  It  was  the 
end  of  the  adversary  lo  suppress,  but  God's  to  propagate,  the 
gospel ;  theirs  to  smother  and  put  out  the  light,  God's  lo  com- 
munieaie  and  disperse  it  to  the  uttermost  corners  of  the  earth. 
.  .  .  And  if  the  dawn  of  the  morning  be  so  delightful, 
what  will  the  clear  day  be?  If  the  first  fruits  he  so  precious, 
what  will  the  whole  harvest  be  i*  If  some  beginnings  be  so  full 
of  joy,  what  will  it  be  when  God  shall  perform  his  whole  work, 
when  the  whole  earth  slinll  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord, 
as  the  waters  cover  the  sea,  and  east  and  west  shall  sing  together 
the  song  of  the  Lamb  ?  "  * 

*  Clear  Sunabine,  Prerace,  pp.  3, 1, 


CHAPTER    V. 

■-  Sh.'piuJ  at  Mr.  Weld's,  —  Dr.  Wil«oti'i  lector*.  —  Nalott  of  n  iM- 
:aresliip. —  Mr.  Khcpard  rcque9t«d  bj  ibe  minisKn  of  Eiiex  10  accept 
[ho  lecture.  —  Lectun  catablUhed  for  three  ye«rs  at  Enrles^olne. — 
V\nt  ttnueo. —  Method  of  pncvhiag.  —  EITect  of  bu  miaitlij.  —  Oppo- 
M  •riw*.  —  I^ftare  tnmsfBiTed  to  Towcester.  —  Continues  to  preach 
I  M  EariU'Calnc  —  SDmmoned  to  London  hj  Bishop  Land.  —  Interview 
with  ihc  bi9bo|i,  —  Silonivd.  —  Charnclcr  of  Laud.  —  Slodies  the  subject 
tt  eonronntlf  at  Eartc*-Cotne.  —  Laait  cnmi^A  into  Ibo  County  of  Euex. 
—  Second  interview  wUh  the  bishop.  —  Commanded  to  leave  the  plnct:. 

Sucit,  a«  Imf  been  d<^8('ribed  in  the  preceding  chapters,  was 
be  rcli^us  oomlilioD  of  England,  und  such  the  prospecl^  o(  : 
louR  young  men  who  desired  lo  devoCu  ihemselves  to  the  work 
f  the  ministry,  at  the  time  when  Thotnas  Shepard  vas  waiting 
~  at  Mr,  Weld's,  iti  Esses,  for  hts  maater's  degree,  "  soljdloiu 
what  would  become  of  him."  But  while  he  was  thus  waiting  ia 
pNitirut  suspense,  the  Lord  waa  in  secret  preparing  a  place  and  a 
Wurk  tor  him ;  so  lliai  when  he  wa^  ready  and  prepared  to  en- 
ter Dpon  ikii  eluHen  employment,  he  was  unexpectedly  called  to 
preftch  the  ^^1  under  circumstances  mo^jl  favorable  to  his  use- 
fiilu««,  (hough  Dot  in  a  way  to  gratify  a  worldly  ambition,  or  to 
AwakL-n  hope  of  proferment  in  the  national  establishment. 
Ju*l  nl  this  time.  Dr.  WiUon,  a  pious  physicinn,  a  brother,  it  is 
*uppo*«H),  of  John  Wilson,  nnenvarils  pii^Ior  of  the  Rnl  church 
it)  Itofion,  hod  resolved  lo  e.'^tuhli.tli  a  lecture  in  some  town  in 
that  county,  wiili  nn  income  of  thirty  pounds  a  year  for  its  raain- 
tenaocc  —  » lecture  which  Mr.  Weld  and  several  other  ministers, 
with  the  concurrence,  m  it  appears,  of  Dr.  Wibon,  urged  Mr, 
Khrpord  to  accept,  and  lo  "set  it  up  in  a  great  town  in  £smx,\ 
cmUed  CugihikIL" 

In  order  to  uademland  the  position  and  duties  of  a  lecturer, 
at  that  {leriod,  aa  distinguished  from  the  office  and  work  of  a 
clergyman,  it  may  be  nccef^nry  to  give  a  brief  account  of  the 
future  of  tbe  lectures  here  referred  to,  and  of  the  circumalMiOM 


IXX  LIFE 

Jo  which  Ihey  had  their  origin.  "  Many  paria  of  ihe  coontry," 
aays  Carlyle,  "  being  thouglit  by  tlie  more  zealous  among  llie 
Puritans  insufficiently  supplied  with  able  nnd  pious  preachers,  a 
plan  vas  devised,  in  16'24,  lor  raL«ing  by  subdcriptiori,  among 
persons  grieved  at  the  state  of  malters,  a  fund  for  baying  in  such 
'lay  impropriations'  as  might  offer  themselves,  for  supporting 
good  ministers  therewith,  in  destitute  places,  and  for  otherwise 
encouraging  the  ministerial  work.  The  oi'iginaior  of  ibia  scheme 
was  Dr.  Preston,  a  man  of  great  celebrity  and  iiifiiience  in  thoae 
days.  His  scheme  was  found  good.  'Jlie  wealthy  London  mer- 
cbanla,  almost  all  of  tbcm  Puritans,  look  it  up,  and  by  degrees 
the  wealthier  Puritans  over  England  at  large.  Considerable 
.  ftmda  were  subscribed  for  this  object,  and  vested  in  '  Feoffees,' 
who  afterwanb  made  some  noise  in  the  world  under  that  name. 
They  gradually  purchased  some  adrowsons,  or  impropriations, 
■Qch  as  came  to  market,  and  hired,  or  assisted  in  hiring,  a  great 
many  lecturers.  These  lecturers  were  persons  not  generally  in  full 
priest's  orders,  being  scrupulous  about  the  ceremonies,  but  io 
deacon's  or  some  other  orders,  with  permission  to  preach,  or 
■lecture,'  as  it  was  called,  whom,  accordingly,  we  find  lecturing 
in  various  places,  under  various  conditions,  in  the  subsequent 
years;  ofVen  in  some  market  town,  on  market  days,  on  Sunday 
afternoons  as  supplemental  to  the  regular  priest,  when  he  might 
be  idle,  or  given  to  while  and  black  surplices  ;  or  as  '  running  lec- 
turers,' now  here,  now  there,  over  a  certain  district.  They  were 
greatly  followed  by  the  serious  part  of  the  community,  and  gave 
pro|}ortionat  ofiense  in  other  quarters.  In  a  few  years,  they  had 
risen  to  such  a  height  that  Laud  took  them  seriously  in  band,  and, 
with  patient  detail,  hunted  them  mostly  out;  nay,  brought  the 
Feoffees  themselves  and  their  whole  enterprise  into  the  .Star 
Chamber,  and  there,  with  emphasis  enough  and  heavy  damages, 
amid  huge  clamor  from  the  public,  suppressed  tbem."  * 

The  lecture  of  Dr.  Wilson,  which  Mr.  Weld  and  other  Pu- 
ritan minbtera  of  Essex  were  anxious  that  Mr.  Shepard  should 

•  Letters  and  S]ii«chcs  of  Oliver  Cromwell,  i.  50. 


1.IFB   OF  TBOUAS   SHEPiHD.  lui 

■ccept,  was  one  of  the  kiDd  here  described.  Of  so  much  im- 
porlimce  did  thej  deem  this  lecture,  and  so  much  confidence  did 
fiiey  feel  in  Mr.  Shepard's  pieiv,  and  ability  to  render  it  useful 
to  the  people,  that  they  set  apart  a  day  of  fastiog  and  prayer  for 
the  purpose  of  seeking  diriiie  direction  &s  to  the  place  where  it 
should  be  estidilished.  Toward  the  evening  of  that  day,  thej 
began  to  consider  whether  Mr.  Sbepard  should  go  to  Cogshall  or 
to  Hjme  other  lown  in  that  region.  Moat  of  the  ministers  were 
in  favor  of  establishing  the  lecture  at  Cogahall,  because  it  was  a 
town  of  considerable  importance,  had  great  need  of  evangeli- 
cal preaching,  and  was,  so  far  as  they  knew,  the  only  place 
where  it  was  especially  desired-  Mr,  Hooker,  however,  objected 
to  this  [idaee,  on  the  ground  that  Mr.  Shepard  was  altogether  loo 
jnung  and  inexjierienced  for  such  a  work  at  that  time ;  and  ^ 
moreover  that  the  clergyman  of  Cogshall  was  a  cunning,  malh^/ 
cious  old  man,  an  enemy  of  the  Puriuuis,  who,  although  he  was 
•ppanmtly  in  favor  of  having  a  lecture  established  there,  jet 
would  lie  likely  to  give  a  young  and  inexperienced  man,  like  Mr. 
Shepard.  n  great  deal  of  trouble  ;  remarking,  in  bis  quiet  way, 
timt  it  was  always  "  dangerous  and  uncomfortable  for  little  birds 
to  Imild  under  the  nests  of  old  ravens  and  kites." 

While  the  ministers  were  actually  engaged  in  discussing  this 
•abject,  the  people  of  Earles-Colne,  a  lown  in  the  same  county, 
having  lirxrd  that  a  free  lecture  was  to  be  established  some- 
whare  in  tlie  county  of  Essex,  and  Ijclieving  that  it  would  be  a 
great  blessing  to  that  "ix>or  town,"  sent  a  deputation  to  Tar- 
Hug,  where  the  ministers  were  assembled,  who  arrived  just  as 
the  qui-slion  «:ls  about  to  be  decided,  with  an  urgent  request 
the  lecture  might  be  established  tliere  for  three  years,  that 
time  lo  which  its  continuance  in  any  place  was  limited : 
il  waa  presumed  by  the  founders  ihal  if  the  lecture  Was 
I  of  doing  any  good,  its  beneficial  inHuence  would 
nanlfeet  within  three  years,  and  then,  if  it  was  taken  away, 
people  In  a  populous  town  would  he  willing  to  maintain  it 
;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  no  good  was  accomplished 
Ib  M  kng  a  time,  it  would  be  a  waste  of  the  funds  to  continue  it 


iipUl  LIFE   OF   THOUAS   aHRI'XRD. 

in  (hat  place  any  longer.  Tn  tIcw  of  this  earnest,  and,  as  it 
seemed,  providential  application,  the  ministers  felt  somewhat  aa 
Peter  did,  when,  al^er  anxiously  meditating  upon  tlie  vision  he 
bad  seen  upon  the  house  top,  the  messengers  of  Cornelius  pre- 
sented themselves,  with  a  request  which  he  interpreted  as  a 
divine  iutimation  of  his  duty.  They  nt  once  decided  that  the 
lecture  should  go  to  Earlcs-Colne ;  advising  Mr.  Shepard  to 
accept  this  provideolial  call,  and  if,  after  preaching;  there  a  vrhile, 
he  found  the  people  favorably  disposed  toward  him  and  desirous 
of  his  services,  to  remain  in  that  place  during  the  time  fixed  for 
the  continuance  of  the  lecture  there. 

Mr.  Shepard  saw  clearly  that  it  was  his  duty  to  comply  with 
the  advice  of  his  friends.  This  appointment  opened  to  him  r 
door  of  usefulness  earlier  and  iDore  effectually  than  he  had  an- 
ticipated, without,  at  the  same  time,  subjecting  him  to  many  of 
those  annoyances  to  which  the  regular  miuisCers  were  constantly 
liable;  and  though  the  salary  connected  with  this  lecture  was 
small,  it  was  sutHcicnt  to  enable  him,  for  the  present,  to  subsist 
with  comparative  comfort.  It  was  a  very  hopeful  undertaking. 
And  it  waa  no  small  lienor  for  one  who,  in  bis  own  opinion,  was 
"bo  young,  so  weak,  inexperienced,  and  unlit  for  so  great  a 
work,"  to  be  called  into  this  difficult  service  "  by  twelve  or  six- 
teen Judicious  ministers  of  Christ."  He  moreover  regarded  it 
N  as  a  manifestation  of  divine  goodness,  never  to  be  forgotten,  that 
when  he  "  might  have  been  cast  a 
without  the  help  of  any  ministry" 
"sent  to  eome  gentleman's  house,  ti 
in  it,"  the  Lord  shouhl  place  him  it: 
VIE.,  Esses,  and  locate  bim  "  in  the  midst  of  ibe  best  ministry 
in  the  country,  by  whose  monthly  fasts  nnd  confei-ences "  ho 
found  much  assistance  and  eacourngemont  in  his  aiiluous  work. 

Accordingly  lie  resolved  to  go  to  Earles-Colne.  After  taking 
his  degree  of  master  of  aria,  in  1627,  and  receiving  deacon's 
orders,  "sinfully,"  na  he  afterward  thought,  of  the  Bishop  of 
Peti'rborough,  he  repaired  to  ihe  scene  of  his  future  labors. 
He  was  cordially  welcomed  and  entertained  by  a  Mr.  Cosins,  a 


Y  upon  some  blind  place, 

'  about  him,  or  have  been 

)  be  corrupted  with  the  sins 

a  Ihe  best  county  in  Hnglniut, 


LIFE    OF   TBOMAa  BREfARD.  Ixziii 

schoolmaster  in  the  town,  "  an  figed,  but  a  godly  u>i  cheerful 
Chrutian,"  ihe  only  person,  indeed,  in  ihe  place  who  Beeined  (o 
fcave  "  anj  godliness,"  by  whose  counsel,  sympathy,  and  coop- 
crulion,  the  fipirit  of  the  young  and  timid  preacher  was  greatljr 
nfresbed  and  sirengihened.  Ilia  first  sermon  was  upon  2  Cor, 
T.  19,  and  was  so  acceptable  to  the  people,  that  ihey  united  in 
giving  him  a  Torroal  inciuiion  in  writing  to  remain  and  leclura 
lo  ihem  agreeably  to  the  terms  of  his  appointment.  From  thii 
Bnanitnily  and  eacnestness,  so  unusual  in  lb(Me  times,  he  inferred 
ihiU  it  w»  tlM<  Lord's  will  that  he  should  labor  in  that  plao«. 
S(iU  he  wae  fearful  that  be  should  not  be  suffered  by  the  supe- 
rior powers  lo  pursue  his  work  in  peace.  In  order,  therefore,  to 
■void  molcalalion  from  that  c|uaner,  he  "sinfully,"  according  to 
his  own  subsequent  interpretation  of  the  act,  procured  a  lic«nae 
lo  officiate  as  a  lecturer,  from  the  register  of  the  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don, before  his  name  and  character  were  much  known  — a  liceuae 
which,  for  a  lime,  enabled  him  to  preach  without  hinderance  oT 
•uspicion  un  the  jiart  of  the  bishop  and  his  officers. 

Hr.  Shepard  entered  upon  hi£  work  at  Karles-Colne  with 
peat  seal-  His  sole  abject  in  preaching  was,  according  lo  the 
given  lo  the  apostle,  to  turn  his  hearen  "  from  dark->. 
fight,  and  from  the  power  of  .Salan  unio  Giod."  In  order 
mplish  this  end  most  effectually  and  speedily,  he  endeav* 
first  of  all,  U>  "  show  the  people  their  misery;"  next,  lo 
exhibit  ■*  the  remedy,  Jesus  Christ ; "  and  finally,  lo  show  "  how 
Ibey  should  walk  answerable  lo  his  mercy,  being  redeemed  by 
Christ."  This  course  of  preaching,  accompanied,  as  it  evideollj, 
VH,  by  a  suM:«re,  earnest,  and  prayerful  spirit  in  the  preacher,  — V' 
*  the  Lord  putting  forth  his  strength  in  my  extreme  weakness," 
•^sixm  begHH  lo  produce  the  most  Imppy  results.  The  people 
kho  bod  walked  in  darkness,  and  among  whom  [here  seemed  to 
be  but  one  uutn  who  "hail  any  gmtline.is,"  vrvm  enlightened  in 
;ct  lo  the  distinguished  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  and  many, 
in  Enrles-Colne  and  in  ilie  region  around,  were  converted. 
)t  valuable  fruits  of  his  ministry  were  the  iwo 
of  lir.  Utflakondon,  Richard  and  Roger  i  the  iMIer  of 


Vini,  i 


IZZtT  LIFE    OF    THOX 

whom  came  to  New  England  with  his  spiritual  father,  and  was 
of  great  service  to  him  in  his  labors  here. 

Such  a  minislry  as  this,  lifting  up  its  voice  like  a  trumpet 
amidst  the  smooth  preaching  and  dead  formalism  of  the  cliurch, 
showing  the  people  their  Iransgression,  and  making  them  feel  their 
misery,  roiild  not,  at  that  period,  be  long  lolei-alcd  by  the  ruling 
powers.  "  Satan  began  lo  rage."  The  commissaries,  registers, 
and  others,  began  to  threaten  the  faithful  preacher,  bdiing  it  for 

s„'  granted  that  be  was  a  "  nonconformable  man,"  whose  mouth  must 
■be  stopped ;  though  at  that  time,  not  having  studied  the  subject 
of  conformity,  he  "  was  not  resolved  either  way,  but  was  dark  in 
these  things."  But  notwithstanding  the  violent  opposition  that 
arose  on  all  sides,  "  the  Lord,  having  work  to  do  in  the  plikce," 
sustained  him,  "  a  poor  ignorant  thing,"  against  all  the  thrcaten- 
ings  of  the  commissaries,  and  the  "  malice  of  the  ihiiiistei's  round 
about,"  and  "  by  strange  and  wonderful  means,"  kept  him  in  the 
field  until  the  work  was  done. 

When  the  three  years  for  which  the  lecture  had  been  estab- 
lished at  Earles-Colne  were  expired,  the  people,  having  Icurtit 
to  appreciate  the  blessing  of  n  faithful  ministry,  were  unwilling 
to  part  with  the  instrument  of  so  much  good,  and  at  once  raised, 

'  by  subscription,  a  salary  of  about  forty  pounds  a  year,  to  induce 
him  to  remain  with  them.  This  unexpected  movement  satisfied 
him  that  it  was  his  duty  to  continue  his  ministrations  in  llint 
place  i  and,  as  the  lecture  must  be  transferred  to  some  other 

!  town,  he  used  bis  influence  lo  have  it  established  at  Towcester, — 
the  place  of  his  birth,  —  "the  worst  town  in  the  world,"  in  his 
opinion,  believing  that  he  could  confer  no  greater  beneSt  upon 
hie  "poor  friends"  there  than  by  sending  to  them  a  faithful 
preacher  of  the  gospel.  Dr.  Wilson  consented  lo  Mr.  SheparJ's 
proposal,  and  Mr.  Stone,  afterwards  the  able  colleague  of  Sir. 
Hooker,  both  at  Cambridge  and  Hartford,  was  sent  with  ihe 
lecture  lo  Towcester,  "  where  the  Lord  was  with  him,"  and  many 
souls  were  converted  by  his  faithful  ministry. 

Mr.  Shepard  continued  lo  preach  at  Earles-Colne  for  about 
six  months  aller  the  transfer  of  the  lecture  to  Towcester;  when 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS   SBErARD. 


Iki 


llie  Elorni,  which  hnd  been  long  galliering,  bursl  upon  him,  and 
drove  Lim  from  his  work  in  lha.t  place.  Laud,  Laving  succeeded 
Buncroft  at  Bishop  of  London,  began  to  look  sharply  afler 
lhe»e  lecturers,  and  to  enforce  entire  conformity  to  the  estab-  / 
lished  ceremoniea  witli  a  rigor  beyond  that  df  any  of  his  prede- 
wssors.  It  was  not  likely  that  such  a  man  as  Shcpard  could 
long  e<:ca[>e  persecution,  when  a  very  worlliy  minister  was  called 
'hetare  the  Court  of  High  Commission,  anJ  seveitly  censured  for 
Inerely  expressing  in  a  sermon  his  belief  that  the  night  vrns 
spproeching,  because  "the  shadows  were  su  much  longer  than 
the  body,  and  ceremonies  more  in  force  than  the  power  of  god- 
liness." Accordingly,  on  the  I6lh  of  December,  IGSO,  Mr.  Shep- 
ard  was  summoned  to  London,  like  a  culprit,  to  answer  for  his  ' 
vondact  at  Earles-Colne.  The  bishop  did  not  ask  him  whether 
le  had  ggbscribtd,  or  was  willing  to  subscribe  and  conform,  but 
taking  it  for  granted  Uml  he  was  an  obstinate  Nonconformist, 
after  abusing  Dr.  Wilson  for  setting  up  a  lecture,  and  the 
lecturer  Ibr  daring  to  preach  in  his  diocese,  forbade  the  fur- 
tter  exercise  of  his  ministerial  gifls  in  thnt  bishopric ;  and 
ircalened  the  poor  man  with  a  speedy  and  violent 
if  he  attempted  to  preach  any  where  else. 

between  the  haughty  bishop  and  the  humble 
r  ia  best  described  in  the  Inngunge  of  the  sufferer  him- 
Aj  Boon  as  1  came  in  tiic  morning,  alwut  eight  of  the 
cloct,  falling  into  a  fit  of  rnge,  he  asked  me  what  degree  I  hod 
■■ken  in  the  university.  I  answered  him  that  I  was  master  of 
■fU.  He  nsked  of  what  college.  I  answered,  of  Emmanuel. 
Be  asked  how  long  I  had  lived  in  his  diocese.  I  oniiwered,  ihree 
jears  and  upward.  He  asked  who  maintained  me  all  thia 
Vhile,  charging  me  to  deal  plainly  with  him.  abiding,  withal,  that 
lie  had  been  more  cheated  and  equivocated  with,  by  some  of  my 
•ultgmuit  faction,  than  ever  was  mnn  by  JesuiL  At  the  speitking 
•f  which  words  he  looked  as  thuugli  blood  would  have  gushed  out 
•f  bit  face,  and  did  shake  as  if  he  had  been  haunted  with  an  ague 
tl,  to  my  apprehension,  by  reason  of  his  culreme  malice  and 
Kcret   venom.     I  desired  him  to  excuse  me.      He  fell  then  to 


'  inicrrupli' 

This 
,preiichi 


Ixxvi  LIFE   Ol'  THOMAS   SI(F.rARI>. 

threaten  me,  and  wiihal  to  bitter  railing,  railing  me  all  to 
nought,  sajing,  '  You  prating  coxcwnb,  do  you  lliink  oil  the 
leomlog  IB  in  your  brain?'  He  then  pronounced  his  sentence 
thus:  '1  charge  you  that  you  neither  preach,  read,  marry,  burj-, 
or  exercise  any  minislerial  tunetioD  in  any  part  of  my  diooL'se ; 
for  if  you  do,  and  I  hear  of  il,  I'll  be  upon  your  back,  and  follow 
you  wherever  you  go,  in  any  pari  of  the  kiugdoui,  and  so  ever- 
lastingly disenable  you.'  I  besought  him  not  to  deal  eo  in  regard 
of  a  poor  town.  And  here  he  stopped  me  in  what  I  was  going 
I  on  to  say.  '  A  poor  town !  You  have  made  a  company  of  eedi- 
^  tious,  factious  bedlams  ;  and  what  do  you  pritte.to  me  <^  a  poor 
town  ? '  I  prayed  him  to  suffer  me  to  catechize  on  the  Sabbath 
days  in  the  alYernoon.  ITe  replied, '  Spare  your  breath ;  TU  have 
no  such  feUows  prate  in  my  diocese.  Get  yon  gone  ;  and  now 
make  your  complaint  to  whom  you  will.'  So  away  I  went;  and 
blessed  be  God  that  I  may  go  to  IIiu." 

Nothing  can  exceed  the  sbameful  violence  and  brutality  of  the 
bishop  but  the  meekness  and  humility  of  the  defenceless  victim. 
"  The  Lord  saw  me  unfit  and  unworthy  to  be  continued  there 
any  longer,"  —  this  is  his  own  self-condemning  language  respect- 
ing the  oppressive  treatment  which  he  bad  received  from  a  nar- 
row-minded and  unfeeling  nuui,  — "  and  so  God  put  me  to 
^Uence  there,  which  did  somewhat  humble  me;  for  I  did  think  il 
^/was  for  my  sins  the  Lord  set  him  iliiis  against  me." 

Tlie  character  of  Laud,  wlio  holds  a  prominent  place  in  the 
history  of  those  times  when  good  men  were  treated  worse  than 
felons  for  refusing  to  conform  to  human  ceremonies  in  the  wor- 
ship of  God,  has  been  very  diflurently  drawn  by  the  friends  and 
tlie  enemies  of  the  Pui'itans,  In  the  flattering  portrait  by 
Clarendon,  be  appears  as  an  angel  of  light,  and  with  the  beauty 
of  a  holy  martyr;  in  the  rough  sketch  of  Prynne,  whose  colors 
were  mixed  up  with  his  own  blood,  he  ia  represented  as  one  of 
the  most  hateful  incarnations  of  the  spirit  of  evil.  We  must 
make  allowance  for  the  sweeping  expressions  of  men  whom  the 
bishop  had  caused  to  be  set  in  the  pillory,  cropped,  branded  with 
Lot  irons,  imprisoned,  fined,  and  banished,  for  the  sate  of  what 


LIFE   OF  THOXAS   BHEPARD. 


IxxTii 


they  Terilj  believed  lo  be  the  cause  of  truth.  But  aflCT  making 
ftll  Decessary  allowance,  it  seems  iai[)05sible  lo  regard  him  with 
any  feeling  but  that  of  detestation.  When  we  read  Shepard'a 
descripilon  of  the  manner  in  which  he  silenced  one  of  the  moat 
pious,  humble,  and  promising  young  men  in  the  church  of  Eng- 
land at  that  time,  —  a  description  which  probalily  would  have 
answered  for  many  similar  »cenca, —  we  can  not  wonder  tliai 
Winthrop  sltoiild  call  him  "  our  great  enemy,"  or  that  Shepard, 
ft>r{)idden,  tike  the  apostles  by  the  Jewish  rulers,  lo  "  s|ieak  at 
all,  or  lo  teach  in  llic  name  of  Jesus,"  should  represent  him  ns 
**a  man  fitted  of  God  lo  be  a  scourge  to  his  people."  Laud 
ma  bom  tn  157^,  at  Reading,  in  Berkshire,  niid  educaled  at 
8l  John's  College,  Oxford,  of  which  he  subsequently  beciime 
th«  president,  and  llie  munifii;ent  patron.  He  was  made  Bishop 
of  Sl  David's,  iu  Wales,  in  1621,  — afterward  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don,— and  finally,  upon  llie  death  of  Abbot,  in  1633,  Arch- 
iMsbop  of  Canterbury.  There  was,  indeed,  as  Fuller  says, 
•neither  order,  office,  degree,  nor  dignity,  in  college,  church, 
nor  imiversily,  but  he  passed  through  it,"  and  in  every  station 
be  exhibited  the  same  overweening  partiality  for  the  ceremonies 
gf  the  rhurch,  and  the  same  bitter  hostility  toward  the  Furi- 
tstw,  who  would  not  bow  down  to  his  idol.  If  he  was  not,  as 
Shepard  calU  him,  "  a  fierce  enemy  of  all  righteousness,"  he 
was  certainly  tlic  avowed  enemy  of  the  most  righteous  person; 
in  the  church,  and  a  cruel  jieneculor  of  every  one  who  ehowed 
fay  his  life  tlint  he  preferred  the  power  of  godliness  I 
nremuny.  He  had  a  xeal  for  the  e^^lernab  of  religjoajrhich 
eonsumed  tlie  spirit  of  piely,  and  an  umbition  to  increase  hIie 
pgliticaLpowet  of  llm  church  which  did  not  hesilaie  to  tram- 
ple t)|M}n  the  most  sacred  rights  of  man.  He  was  evidently  s 
man  of  a  narrow  uitellect  and  a  bad  heart.  He  wa$  envious, 
paaiionata,  vindictive,  cruel,  and  implacable.  In  the  Htar 
Chamber  he  always  advocated  the  severest  measures,  and 
faseil  more  vinegar  ihun  oil  into  all  ceniiures "  against 
«ictinu  of  church  authority.  *'  For  this  individual,"  utya  an 
iter,  "we  entertain  a  more    unmiiigaied 


1 


► 


Uxviii  LIFK    OF    THOMAS    SBErARn, 

tUau  for  any  other  chnrader  in  our  history.  His  mind  had  not 
eKpanHioD  enough  to  comprehend  a  greal  scheme,  good  or  bad. 
Ilia  oppressive  acts  were  nol,  like  those  of  the  Earl  of  Straf- 
ford, [larU  of  an  extensive  system.  They  were  the  lasuriea 
in  whii:h  a  mean  and  irritable  disposition  indulges  itself  from 
day  to  day  —  the  esce^ses  natural  to  a  little  mind  in  a  great 
place.  While  he  abjured  iLe  innocent  badges  of  Popery,  he 
retained  all  its  worst  vices — a  complete  subjectioa  of  reason  to 
authority,  a  weak  preference  of  form  to  substance,  a  childish 
passion  for  mummeries,  an  idolatrous  veneration  for  the  priestly 
1  charncler,  and,  above  all,  a  stupid  and  a  ferocious  intolerance."" 
\  It  is  only  necessary  to  add  thut,  afler  inflicting  upon  the  dcfense- 
\less  Puritans  all  the  evil  in  hii^  power,  he  died  a  violent  death, 
being  beheaded,  upon  a  charge  of  high  treason,  on  the  10th  of 
January,  1645,  in  the  seventy-second  year  of  his  age.  He  as- 
cended the  scaffold  "  with  a  cheerful  countenance,  imputed  by  his 
friends  to  the  clearedneii,  by  his  foes  to  the  tearedneu,  of  his 
conscience.  Tiie  beholders  that  day  were  so  divided  between 
bemoaners  and  insullcrs,  that  it  was  hard  to  decide  which  of 
them  mode  up  the  migor  part  of  the  company."  t 

Having    been  thus  unexpectedly  silenced,  and  forbidden  to 
preach  or  to  perform  any  ministerial  act  within  the  realm  of  Eng- 
)■'    land,  with  no  means  of  subsistence,  with  no  employment,  with  no 
hope  of  being  able  to  promote  the  cause  which  he  had  most  at 
heart,  with  the  withering  sentence  of  the  bishop  upon  him,  Mr. 
Shepard  seciued  to  be  really  in  au  evil  case.     But  though  per- 
secuted, he  was  not  forsaken ;   though  cast  down,  he  was  not 
destroyed.     The   Harlakcudons,  some  of  whom  had  been  the 
subjects  of  renewing  grace  under  his  preaching,  showed  their 
'i    affection  and  gratitude  by  affording  him  an  asylum  in  their  hos- 
/    pilablo  mansion,  and  were  "  so  many  fathers  and  mothers "  to 
■     him.     The  people  of  Earle^-Colno,  also,  mindful  of  the  good 
which  had  boen  done  amouo;  them  by  his  faithful  labors,  were 


*  MacBuls^'g  Essays,  I,  10,  M 
t  Fuller,  Cliurcti  llistoc?,  book  s 


LIFE   OF  TnOUA.S  SHEPASD.  llXIX 


desirous  ihni  lie  should  remain  in  the  place,  nnd  were  ready  lo 
.  eonlribule  lo  his  comfort,  tliough  he  could  bo  of  do  service  to 
them  as  a  minister  of  the  gospel.  Here  he  remained  about 
HX  months ;  and  as  he  waa  shut  out  from  all  active  employ- 
Bent,  lie  improved  his  enforced  leisui-e  in  looking  more  carefully  Y 
IBIo  ihe  order  of  worship  to  which  he  was  required  to  conform 
,-^a  subject  respecting  which  he  tiful  until  now  been  undecided. 
The  more  he  studied,  the  more  clearly  he  saw  "  Ihe  evil  of  the 
£nglish  ceremoniea,  cross,  surplice,  and  kneeling,"  and  the  less 
diB|)osvd  to  adhere  to  a  church  ihat  made  conformity  to  such 
things  an  tndispeneahle  condition  of  its  fellowship,  and  used  ils 
powirr  so  tyrannically  against  all  who  hod  conscienlious  scrupliig 
sbout  them. 

Mr.  Sliepard'S  course  in  relation  to  lliis  matter  was  not  at  all 
[,  sbigular.    Many  of  the  most  distinguished  Puritans  of  that  time, 
(  and  of  a  somewhat  later  (leriod,  were,  for  a  while,  undecided  re-' 
apectiog  their  duly  as  lo  the  ceremonies,  were  willing  to  conform  lo 
niany  things  which  ihey  could  not  nliogether  apjirove,  were  great- 
ly <ljsu'«sse0  ftl  Ihe  idea  of  separating  from  llieir  mother  church, 
vliieU,  with  all  her  faults,  still  retained,  suhstanlially,  the  true 
r  Chrialkn  doctrine.     This  was  Philip  Henry's  slate  of  mind. 
K  Be  was  dlspowd  lo  remain  in  the  church,  and  to  conform  as  fnr 
Bu  poMible ;  but  the  Ircaiment  he  received  convinced  him  that 
r  tlie  a«.*uinplion  of  human  authority  in  matters  of  religion  was  a  \y 
Lfrcat  evil,  and  maile  him  jiruciicelly.  though  not  nominally,  an 
I Il>de|>cn'Ienl.*    In  bis  Dian-  for  February  IC.  1673,  the  following 
•  occurs  :  "  Mr.  Leigh  at  chapel.     Discourse  at  noon  uot 
lllogcihcr  suitable  lo  the  Siibbaili,  concerning  ceremonies  ;  hut 
lething  said  in  public  led  to  il,  vix.,  llmt  the  magistrate  bath 
E  fowcr  in  trajiosing  gtilart»  and  mtartM."     So  Baxter,  one  of 
I'llie  most  candid  nnd  conscienlious  of  men,  was  driven  farther 
■-jand  farther  from  the  English  church,  by  the  doctrine,  so  cruelly 
■'fvdaced  to  practice,  that  Ihe  state  tuis  the  right  to  lix  the  mode 

•  Lttun  on  lb*  Foriuiu,  by  J.  B.  Williirat. 


IXXX  LIFE    OF  THO«AS    SHKr*HD. 

in  which  men  bIi!iU  worship  God.  and  hy  Ihe  impudent  jilea  of 
"  men'a  good,  and  Ihe  order  of  Ihe  church,"  ia  JuEtilication  of 
ads  of  inhumanity  and  unchnrilablenese.*  John  Corbet,  (be 
author  of  "  Self-employment  in  Secrel,"  wlio  was  turned  out  of 
his  living  at  Bramshot,  in  Hampshire,  was  another  whom  violent 
and  compulsory  treatment  compelled  to  study  the  subject  of  con- 
formity with  great  care  and  impartiality.  Many  parts  of  con-, 
formiiy,  eays  Baxter,  he  could  have  yielded  to,  but  not  ail,  and 
nothing  less  than  ail  would  satisfy  the  hishops.t 

While  Mr.  She|)ard  vns  thus  engaged  in  examining  this  sub- 
ject, which  had  become  one  of  vital  importance,  and  forming  his 
views  of  duty  in  relation  to  the  ceremonies,  his  old  enemy, 
Bishop  Laud,  coming  into  the  country  upon  a  visitation,  and 
learning  that  he  was  Btill  at  Earles-Colne,  cited  him  to  appear 
before  the  court  at  Feldon ;  "  where  I  appearing,  he  asked  me 
what  I  did  in  the  place.  I  lold  him  I  studied.  He  asked  me 
what.  I  lold  him  Ihe  fathers.  He  replied,  I  might  thank  him 
for  that :  yet  he  charged  mc  Id  deport  the  place.  I  aeked  him 
whither  pliould  I  go.  To  the  university,  said  he.  I  lold  him  I 
had  no  means  to  Buhsist  there.  Yet  he  charged  me  to  depart 
the  place,"  It  was  at  this  visitation  thai  Mr.  Weld,  who  hod 
been  suspended  from  his  ministry  about  a  month  before,  was 
formally  excommunicated,  and  thus,  to  use  the  bishop's  eKpi«a- 
sion,  "  everlastingly  disenabled,"  Mr.  Rogers,  of  Dedham,  was, 
at  the  Bame  time,  required  to  subscribe ;  and,  as  he  could  not 
conscientiously  do  ibis,  he  was,  like  a  multitude  of  other  pious 
and  faithful  ministers,  suspended  and  silenced. 


k 


i   OF   TDOUAS    SHEPAKD. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


It.  Shi-pird  obliged  U>  Ic&ve  EsrIeB-Colne,  —  B»hop'a  viaiLation  at  Dnn- 
morc.  —  Hr.  Shcpard  and  Hr  Weld  talk  of  (roioe  to  treland.  —  Srcne  at 
llnnmorE.  —  Mr.  Weld  arralod.  —  Hr.  Shcpard  flees  from  the  pUcc. —  t 
Inrilcd  to  act  ai  chaplain  iu  the  fumilT  of  Sir  Richard  Darloj.  —  Joumej 
iuut  Yorkshire.  —  Slate  of  Sir  Richard's  familj'.  —  Fint  leriDon  nt  Buc- 
Irrcranibc. —  Marriage  of  Mr.  Alured.  —  EBect  of  his  sermnti  upon  this 
o«-ajinn.  —  Marries  Margnrot  Touteville.  —  Removes  to  Heddon. — 
EfiVct  of  Ills  preaching  at  Heddon. —  Silenced  bj  BichupNeile.  —  Pint 
fhild  bom.  —  MoliTes  to  emigrate  lo  Htw  England.  —  Ruolrcs  to  teate 
KagitoA.  —  Engages  paauge  in  the  Hope.  —  Shiii  detuned.  —  Plan  is 
KTcat  Bhepard  and  Norton. 

It  was  now  eridenl  ihal  Mr.  Shepard'a  work  Ht  Earles-Colne, 
viiere  lie  had  first  l>ei:ome  acquainted  with  the  burtlea  and  the 
jjor/  of  ihe  cro»s,  was  finished  ;  and  that  he  muat  prepare  for  a 
flfnedj  departure,  if  he  would  escape  the  efiet^ts  cf  the  bishop's 
inatioii.  But  whither  should  lie  go?  There  were  no  means 
tt  feubftiBlcDce  I'or  him  at  the  universily.  He  could  do  longer 
prcAch  in  the  diocese  of  London ;  and  he  had  been  threatened 
with  persecution  if  he  attempted  to  preach  any  where  ebe  in 
England.  But  tie  was  undtr  the  guidance  of  a  Providence  in 
vfaoie  wiadom  he  could  implicitly  trust ;  and  during  ihb  tryiiig^j 
•eene  hi«  mind  »eeme  to  have  been  kept  in  perfect  peace  with  re- 
spect to  the  queaiion  where  he  should  go,  and  what  he  should  do. 
The  situation  of  cliapliiin  in  a  gentleman's  family,  in  Yorkshire, 

I  been  offered  to  him  ;  but  he  was  unwilling  lo  leave  his 
prc54Mit  post  until  actually  forced  away  by  circumatunces  which 
'be  could  not  controh     These  circumstances  hod  now  occurred ; 

1  be  was  watching  for  the  indications  of  the  divine  will  in 
Khtiion  to  hJK  future  course. 

A  few  days  after  he  had  been  peremptorily  commanded  by 
^^Ib  MUJiorlty  which  he  could  not  resist,  to  leave  Eiirles-Colne, 
IHm  bifhop  waa  to  hold  a  visitation  in  Dunmore.  in  Essex  ;  and    ^ 
Mr.  Weld,  Mr.  Daniel  Rogew,  Mr.  Ward,  Mr.  Jtiirshall,  and     j 


Hxx'li  LII'R    OF   THOMAS    SHF.rABD. 

Mr.  WTiarloii,  all  Blanding  iu  jeopardy  every  hour, "  consulted 
together,  nhelhcr  it  was  best  to  let  such  a  swine  root  u[)  God'^ 
'i^lants  in  Esstix,  and  nol  gire  him  some  check."  In  what  way 
they  expected  to  gire  "  a  clieck  "  lo  such  a  man  as  Land  does 
not  appear  ;  but  it  was  agreed  upon  privulely,  at  Brainlree,  that 
they  would  speak  lo  the  bishop,  and,  if  possible,  to  arrest  tiiis 
work  of  devastation, 

Mr.  Sliepard  and  Mr.  Weld,  traveling  together  to  the  place 
where  the  bishop  was  to  hold  his  visitation,  discussed  the  expe- 
ls dieiicy  of  emigrating  lo  New  England.  But,  upon  the  whole, 
they  concluded  that  it  would  he  belter  to  go  by  the  way  of  Scot- 
land into  Ireland,  and  eudeavor  lo  find  there  u  place  where  they 
might  safely  and  profitably  exercise  their  ministry.  When  they 
came  lo  the  church  where  the  bishop  was  to  preach,  Mr.  Weld, 
who  had  been  already  excommunicated,  slopped  at  the  door, 
not  being  permitied  to  stand  within  consecrated  walls  ;  hut  Mr. 
Shepard,  upon  whom  the  anathema  had  not  yet  been  pronounced, 
went  boldly  iu.  Sermon  being  ended,  Mr.  Weld  drew  near  to 
hear  the  bishop's  speech,  supposing  that,  as  divine  service  was 
over,  even  an  excommunicated  person  might  listen  lo  an  ordinary 
address.  He  was,  however,  mistaken.  The  bishop  saw  him, 
and,  turning  upon  him  with  his  accustomed  violence,  demanded 
why  he  was  "  on  this  side  New  England,"  and  how  he,  who,  by 
excommunication,  had  become  a  heathen  and  a  publican,  dared 
to  stand  upon  holy  ground.  Sir.  Weld  meekly  pleaded  in  ex- 
cuse, that,  if  be  had  sinned,  it  was  through  ignorance,  and  begged 
to  be  forgiven.  The  bishop,  however,  was  not  in  a  forgiving 
mood,  and  Mr.  Weld  was  committed  to  the  pursuivant,  and 
bound  over  in  the  sum  of  one  hundred  marks,  to  answer,  before 
the  Court  of  High  Commission,  for  the  crime  of  desecrating  a 
church  by  his  presence,  as  "an  example"  and  a  warning  lo  all 
such  persons  in  future.* 

While  this  shameful  scene  was  being  enacted,  Mr.  Shepard, 
coming  into  the  crowd,  beard  the  bishop  inqairiag  about  him, 

•  Clironicles  of  MiiBsachiiaelts,  52a,  note. 


E  OF  TUOitA.s,  siiEi'AEiu.  Izxxiil 


Mid  found  lluii  llie  pursuivant,  having  arrested  Mr.  'Weld,  was 
■Miix'ioas  to  get  liold  of  Lis  companion,  as  the  worst  of  the  two. 
Sereral  persons  who  were  friendly  lo  Mr.  Shcpard,  bearing  liia 
pronounced,  und  seeing  that  (he  bishop  had  resolved  to 
make  "  an  example  "  of  him  also,  urged  him  to  retire  without 
delay ;  but,  as  he  hesitated,  and  lingered  upon  this  dangerous 
ground,  Dot  knowing  what  to  do,  a  Mr.  Ilolbeech,  a  pious  school- 
master of  FeUted,  in  Essex,  seeing  Ids  danger,  seized  him,  and 
drew  him  foreibly  out  of  tlie  church.  Tliis  was  no  sooner  done 
apparitor  called  for  Mr.  Shepard,  and,  as  he  was  no 
'Where  lo  be  seen,  the  pursuivant  was  sent  in  haste  lo  And  and 
But  Mr.  Uulbeech,  who  seems  to  have  had  more 
energy  and  presence  of  mind  upon  tliis  occasion  than  his  friend, 
"hastened  our  horses,  and  away  we  rid  as  fast  as  possible;  and 
SO  tb«  l^rd  delivered  me  out  of  the  hand  of  that  lion  a  third 
lime." 

Mr.  Sliepard  was  now  a  fugitive,  not  from  justice,  but  from 
tfae  savage  offlcers  of  that  most  iniquitous  Star  Chamber,  in  y- 
vhich,  if  no  fault  whatever  could  he  proved,  it  was  ruin  to  a 
person  and  purse  to  l>e  tried.  He  hud,  aa  has  been  suid, 
Veceived  an  invitation  (o  act  as  chaplain  to  a  gentleman's  family 
in  Yorkshire,  which  he  had  declined  lo  accept  until  the  bishop 
actually  driven  him  away  from  Earles-Colnc.  Soon  aRer 
^  flight  from  Duiimore,  he  received  a  letter  from  Ezekiel 
Sogers,  then  living  ni  Rowley,  in  Yorkshire,  renewing  this  invi-  ^ 

in,  and  urging  him  lo  come  into  ilukt  county,  where  lie  would 
tw  "fur  from  ihe  hearing  of  the  malicious  Itishop  Laud,"  who 
fed  ihrealened  hira,  if  be  preached  any  where  in  his  diocese. 
The  family  referred  to  was  that  of  Sir  Ricliard  Darley,  of  Bul- 
n  the  north  riding  of  Yorkshire.  As  a  compensation 
r  bis  tervipes,  ihc  knight  olfensd  to  l>oard  and  lodge  him,  and 
e  two  sons  of  Sir  Richard,  Henry  and  Richard  Darley,  prom- 
Ited,  tor  their  part,  a  salary  of  twenty  pounds  a  year.  Tho 
lltiera,  moreover,  which  he  received  from  Yorkshire,  pr«scnlcd 
1  inducement  of  a  higher  nature,  for  ihey  came  "  crying  with 
•t  voice  of  the  man  of  MacedoniH, '  Come  and  lielp  us.'  "     Un- 


Ixsxiv  LIFE 

del"  these  circumstances,  Mr.  Shepard  could  not  be  doublfal  as 
Id  the  {)alh  of  duly,  and  lie  resolved  lo  "  follow  the  Lord  lo  bo 
remote  and  slrangc  a  place."  When  he  was  ready  lo  depart, 
Sir  Riclinrd  considerately  scirt  a  man  to  be  his  guide  in  a  jour- 
ney whicli,  at  that  lime,  was  not  only  tedious,  but  somewhat 
hazardous ;  and  with  "  much  grief  of  heart,"  he  "  forsook  Kssex 
and  Earles~Colne,  going,  as  it  were,  he  knew  not  whither;"  and 
the  afTeclionale  people,  who  had  for  a  season  rejoiced  in  liis 
light,  "  Borrowing  most  of  alt  for  the  words  which  he  spake, 
that  they  should  see  his  face  no  more-'V/ 

In  this  journey  he  had  occasion  to  remember  the  Saviour'g 
words,  "  Pray  that  your  (light  be  not  in  winter."  They  traveled 
on  horseback,  and  were  five  or  six  days  upon  the  road.  The 
weather  was  cold  and  stormy.  The  rivers  in  Yorkshire  were 
much  swollen  by  the  rains,  and  hardly  passable.  The  ways 
were  rough,  and  on  several  occasions  the  travelers  were  in  great 
danger.  At  last  they  came  to  a  town  called  Ferrybridge,  on  the 
lUver  Aire,  "  where  the  waters  were  up,  and  ran  over  the  bridge 
for  half  a  mile  together."  Here  they  hired  a  guide  to  conduct 
them  over  the  bridge.  "  But  when  be  had  gone  a  little  way,  the 
violence  of  ihe  water  was  such,  that  he  first  fell  in,  and  after  him 
another  man,  who  was  near  drowning  before  my  eyes,  Where- 
upon my  heart  was  so  smitten  with  fear  of  ihe  danger,  and  my 
head  so  dizzied  with  the  running  of  the  water,  that  had  not  the 
Lord  immediately  upheld  me,  and  my  horse  also,  and  so  guided 
it,  I  had  cerlainly  perished."  They  had  proceeded  but  a  short 
distance  upon  the  bridge,  when  Mr.  .Shepard  fell  into  the  river, 
but  was  able  to  keep  his  scat  upon  his  horse,  which,  being  a 
very  good  one,  with  great  eflbrt  soon  regained  his  fooling  upon 
the  bridge.  Mr.  Darley's  man,  also,  in  his  efforts  to  save  Mr. 
Shepard,  fell  in,  and  was  near  drowning,  bat  at  last  extricated 
himself  from  his  perilous  situation.  After  much  diflicutiy,  they 
reached  a  house  upon  ihe  opjioslte  side  of  the  river,  where  they 
■■  changed  iheir  clothes,  and  "  went  to  prayer,"  blessing  God  for 
_  «^''  this  wonderful  preservation."  He  looked  now  upon  his  life 
A  new  existence  granted  to  him,  which  he  "  saw  good  reason 


LITE   OF  7HOUA8   SUEFARD.  IxXXV 

to  give  u|i  unlo  God  and  his  service.  And  Iruly  llie  Lord,  that 
bad  dealt  oaljr  gently  with  me  before,  now  began  to  nlfilcl  me, 
and  to  let  me  Bee  how  good  it  was  to  be  under  his  tutoring." 

lie  on  Saturday  evening  when  they  reaebed  York. 
Sloppiog  only  for  some  slight  rcfreshmeat.  ihey  went  on  to 
Butiercnuube.  (he  seat  of  Sir  Ritbiird,  about  seven  miles  far- 
ther, where,  at  a  late  hour,  very  wet,  cold,  and  weary,  ibey  at 
The  reception  which  Mr.  Shepard  met  at  the 
bouse  of  Sir  Richard  Darley  was  in  one  respect  all  that  he  could 

nniicipaled;  for  all  his  wants  were  promptly  attended  to, 
■nd  he  woa  lodged  in  the  "  best  room  in  the  house."  But  the 
religious  condition  of  the  family,  and  the  manner  in  which  he 
found  some  of  its  members  employed  near  Subbath  morning 
when  he  arrived,  must  have  been  more  chilling  lo  his  heart  than 
oold  min  had  been  to  his  frail  body.  To  his  utter  astonish' 
iDent  and  dismay,  he  found  ''  divers  of  them  at  dice  and  tables," 

learnt,  with  unspeakable  sorrow,  that,  although  he  was  ex- 
pe<-(ed  lo  preach  on  the  morrow,  no  preparation  hud  been  made 
lo  receive  him  "nsbecomeih  saints,"  lie  wns  hurried  to  his  lodg- 
ings, and  on  the  next  day,  worn  out  with  the  fatigue  of  a  per- 
Bnus  journey.  Hid  at  heart,  and  almost  dead  with  despondency, 
be  prenchvd  his  fir!>l  sermon  in  that  place;  with  what  effect  is 
known,  but  can  easily  be  conjectured.  It  is  not  strange 
that  wliile  he  was  comfortably  provided  for  in  external  respects, 
be  should  feel  tliat  he  had  folleu  upon  evil  days,  and  that  he  N 

so  sunk  in  spirit  as  about  this  lime."  For  he  v 
BOW  far  from  nil  his  friends,  lie  wnj<  in  a  "profane  bousi 
where  there  seemed  lo  be  no  fear  of  God.  He  was  in  a  "  Vile, 
Wicked  town  and  country."  He  was  "  unknown  and  exposed  U> 
wrongs,"  He  felt  " insuflicienl  lo  do  any  work;"  and,  to 
Kndcr  his  situation  as  comfortless  as  possible,  "[he  lady  was 
dturliah."  Yet  even  here  he  was  not  altogether  forsaken  and 
■JcMbte.  The  lady  might  treat  him  contempiuousiy,  but 
IBir  IticUard  was  kind;  and  he  found  in  the  house  three 
lervanls  —  Thomas  Fugill,  who  was  one  of  the  prin- 

letaers  of  New  Haven,  in   IG38,— llulh  Buebell,  after- 

VUL.   I.  /l 


/. 


IxxXVi  LIFE    OF   TUOIEAB   SIIEI'ARD. 

wards  married  to  Edwtird  Milchenson,  bolh  of  whom  came  to 
New  England,  and  were  members  of  (lie  cliurch  in  Cambridge,-— 
and  Margaret  Toutevillc,  a  relative  of  Sir  Richard,  —  by  whose 
kind  altcntions  the  unexpected  trials  to  which  he  was  eipoEed 
were  in  some  measure  alleviated. 

Soon  after  Mr.  Sliepard  became  a  resident  in  this  familj',  the 
daughter  of  Sir  Richnrd  Darley  was  married  to  "  one  Mr. 
Alured,  a  most  profane  young  gentleman,"  upon  which  occasion, 
Hccording  to  custom,  a  sermon  was  required  from  the  chaplain. 
This  was  the  comraencenienl  of  what  may  be  called  a  revival  in 
that  "profane  house."  Under  the  discourse,  "the  Lord  first 
touched  ihe  heart  of  Mistress  Margaret  with  very  great  terrors 
for  sin  and  her  Chrislless  estate."  Immediately  other  members 
of  the  family,  among  whom  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alured,  began  ' 
to  iD(]uire  what  they  must  do  to  be  saved.  These  convictions 
resulted  in  hopeful  conversion ;  and  the  whole  family,  if  not 
eavingly  renewed,  were,  at  least,  thoroughly  reformed,  and 
brought  to  the  regular  performance  of  external  dulies,  Thia 
seems  to  have  been  tiic  liniit  of  Mr.  Shepard's  success  in  that 
place.  For  although  Mather  says  that  God  qtiickly  made  him 
instrumental  of  a  blessed  change  in  the  neighborhood,  as  well  as 
in  the  family,  —  the  profanest  persons  thereabouts  being  touched 
with  the  efficacy  of  his  ministry,  and  prayer  with  fasting  suc- 
ceeding to  their  former  wildncss, — yet  Mr.  Shepard  himsell', 
who  best  knew  the  results  of  his  preaching,  declares  that  while 
most  of  the  members  of  Sir  Richard's  family  were  converted,  or, 
at  least,  greatly  changed,  he  knew  of  "  none  in  the  town,  or 
about  it,  who  were  brought  home." 

While  Mr.  Shepard  was  thus  faithfully  laboring  to  enrich  this 
family  with  the  blessings  of  the  gospel,  the  Lord  was  preparing 
for  him  one  of  the  greatest  of  earthly  blessings  —  a  pious  and 
devoted  wife.  For  three  years,  while  he  resided  at  Earlea- 
Colne,  he  had  made  it  a  subject  of  earnest  prayer  that  the  Lord 
would  carry  him  to  a  place  "where  he  might  find  a  meet  yoke- 
fellow." His  pmyer  was  now  answered.  He  found  in  Marga- 
ret  Toutevillc  —  then   about    twenty-seven  years  of  age  —  a 


LIFE   or  THOUA9   EHEFARD.  IxXXTII 


woman  every  nav  snileil  to  aid  him  in  his  arduous  wor^.  She 
"  a  most  humble  woumn,"  —  "a  very  didceming  Christian," 
amiable  and  holy,"  —  "endued  with  a  verj  sweet  spirit  of 
prayer,"  —  and  upon  the  whole,  "  the  best  and  the  lillest  person 
ia  the  world"  for  each  a  man  as  Shepard.  Sir  Richard,  with 
Ilia  whole  family,  favored  the  conneclion,  not  only  giving  their 
cordial  consent  to  his  union  with  their  kinswoman,  but  generously 
increasing  her  marriage  portion  ;  and  in  1G33,  ailer  a  residence 
nt  about  a  year  in  the  family,  be  was  hnppily  married  to  one, 
ho,  in  his  ''  exiled  condition  in  a  Etrange  place,"  and  in  his 
lurdships  and  dangers,  was  ever  to  him  an  "incomparably 
loving  "  and  faithful  wife. 

Mr.  Shepard  now  found  it  expedient  to  remove  from  Butler- 
crambe.  His  wife  was  unwilling  to  remain  in  Sir  lUchard'a 
iainily  after  her  marriage ;  and  besides,  it  soon  became  impos- 
■ible  for  him  lo  continue  his  labors  in  chat  place,  for  Bishop 
Keile,  a  rigid  ceremoni&list,  coming  to  York  and  hearing  of  him, 
peremptorily  forbade  his  preaching  there  any  longer  unless  he 
would  subscribe,  which,  with  his  conscience  now  becoming  fully 
enlightened,  he  could  not  do.  At  this  crisis  he  received  an  invi- 
tation lo  preach  at  Heddoii,  a  town  in  Northumberland,  about 
five  miles  from  Newcastle  upon  the  Tyne.  It  was  a  poor  place, 
■nd  afforded  but  little  prospect  of  a  comfortable  subsistence. 
was  the  only  Geld  of  labor  open  to  him  at  that  time ;  and 
M  Ihe  people  were  anxious  to  obtain  his  services,  —  especially 
IS  there  he  would  be  far  from  the  residence  of  any  bishop,  a 
WMtter  of  the  greatest  importance  to  a  preacher  who  could  not 
■nbscribe,  —  be  resolved  to  go.  Accordingly,  accompanied  by 
Alured,  be  went  lo  lleddon,  not  without  painful  apprehen- 
t  of  danger  from  the  eHorls  of  his  enemies,  and  bis  "  poor 
fall  of  feora."  But  all  bis  fears  were  not  realized.  He 
iperienced,  aa  h«  expected,  some  hardiibip  and  inconvenience ;  i 
^t  lie  fonnd  aome  kind  Christian  friendK,  among  the  most  vnlu- 
of  whom  were  Mrs.  Fenwick,  who  gave  him  the  use  of  a 
«,  and  Mr*.  Sherboume,  who  contributed  largely  to  his 
Hia  labors  iu  Heddoo,  and  in  the  adjoining  town*, 


Ixxsviii  LIFE  or  THOMAS   SUEPAKD. 

were  abundunt,  and  accompanicij  by  the  divine  blessing.  Man}' 
of  his  henrers  were  converted  t  auil  those  who  iilrcady  loved  the 
truth  were  greatly  strengthened  by  his  vigorous  piety  and  en- 
lighteniDg  ininbtry.  (le  t'ouiid  linie  also  to  study  more  thorough- 
ly the  subject  of  church  government  and  order,  and  lo  form  hU 
opinions  more  fully  in  relation  to  the  ceremonies,  and  the  "un- 
lawful standing  of  bUhopa."  He  thus  became  more  and  more 
sensible  of  llie  great  errors  of  the  established  church,  and  better 
fitted  for  the  work  of  building  up  the  tabernacle  of  God  in  the 
wilderness,  to  which  he  was  Eoon  lo  be  called. 

After  preaching  at  Heddon  for  about  a  year,  he  removed  —  for 
what  reason  is  not  known  —  to  a  Deighboring  town.  But  he  wm 
soon  forced  to  leave  that  place  by  a  clergyman  who  came  with 
authority  to  forbid  his  preaching  publicly  any  longer.  In  this 
new  and  unexpected  trouble,  n.pplication  was  made  by  hia  friends 
to  Slorton,  Bishop  of  Durham,  for  liberty  to  continue  his  ministry 
among  them ;  but  the  bishop,  although  he  seems  to  have  been 
disposed  to  grant  this  request,  acknowledged  that  he  dared  not 
give  his  sanction  to  the  preaching  of  a  man  whom  Laud  had 
undertaken  to  silence.  Mr.  Shepard  therefore  went  fi-om  place 
to  place,  and  preached  wherever  he  could  do  so  without  danger, 
until  nt  last  he  was  obliged  ta  confine  himself  lo  private  expo- 
sition in  the  house  of  Mr.  Fenwick.  During  this  dismal  and 
trying  season,  his  first  child,  whom  he  named  Thomas,  was  born, 
—  the  mother  having  been  in  great  peril  for  four  days,  through 
the  unskillfulness  of  her  physician.  To  have  been  deprived  of 
such  a  wife  in  that  "dark  country,"  and  when  he  was  struggling 
with  innumerable  ditliculties  and  dangers,  would  have  broken  his 
spirit,  and  the  Lord  mercifully  spared  him  this  aHltctioo.  But 
the  shadow  of  such  au  evil  falling  upon  Lim  amidst  nil  his  other 
-virials  humbled  him  in  the  dust,  reminded  him  of  all  his  delin- 
quencies and  broken  resolutions,  drew  liim  nearer  to  God,  and 
excited  him  to  greater  diligence  and  faithfulness  in  bis  great 

Mr.  Shepard  !iad  now  been  "tossed  from  the  south  to  the 
of  England,"  and  could  neither  go  brtfaer  in  that  direction, 


LIFE   or  THOMAS   BHErARD.  Ixnix 

■  preach  llie  gospel  publidj  where  he  wa*.     He  therefore 
,  began  to  consider  ihe  case  of  conscieDce,  frequently  put  bj  the 

u-tjTS  in  tbc  blood;  days  of  Queen  Mary  —  whether  it  waa 
'  his  duty  to  abandon  his  country  nllogelher,  and  seek  in  a  new  ^ 
world  not  only  a  refuge  for  himself,  but  a  place  where  he  might 
labor  securely,  and  with  liope,  for  ihe  advancement  of  the   Sa- 
viour's kingdom.     The  ihoughls  of  many  pious  persons  in  Eng- 
land had,  tor  some  lime,  been  turned  toward  this  country,  where, 
it  was  believed,  the  Lord  nas  about  lo  plant  the  gospel,  and  to 
CBtablisii  a  pure  church.     Collon.  Hooker,  Stone,  and  Weld,  the 
{ntimate  friends  of  Mr.  Shepard,  together  with  many  of  their  peo-       , 
pie,  had  already  fled  to  New  England  ;  and   many  others  werev 
preparing  to  follow  ihem  into  the  wilderness,  where  they  could 
rship  God  aiM.'ording  lo  his  word.     Under  these  circumstances, 
Mr.  Shepard   "  begun  lo  listen  lo  a  call  lo  New  England." 

For  taking  this  decisive  step  he  saw  many  weighty  reasons. 
lie  had  no  call  to  any  place  in  England  where  he  could  preach 
e  gospel,  nor  any  means  of  subsistence  for  himself  and  family. 
He  Haw  many  pious  people  leaving  their  country,  and  going 
forth,  like  Abraham,  they  knew  not  whither,  at  the  call  of  God 
•nd  conscience.  He  was  urged  by  those  who  had  already  gone, 
1  by  many  who  wished  lo  go  to  New  England,  to  abandon  a 
eouDlry  where  he  cottld  no  longer  be  useful  as  a  minister  of 
Christ,  and  aid  ihem  in  their  holy  enierpriae  by  his  wisdom  and 
piety.  He  "  saw  the  Lord  departing  from  England  when  Mr. 
Booker  and  Mr.  Cotion  were  gone,"  and  anticipated  nothing  but 
ry  if  he  were  left  behind.  He  was  convinced  of  the  evil  of 
the  ceremonies,  and  of  Ibe  inexpediency,  if  not  the  sin,  of  mixed  ^ 
BDBuaunion  in  the  socnuncnlB  of  the  church  as  then  adminiS' 
Icreil,  while  at  the  some  lime  he  deemed  it  "  lawful  to  join  with 
them  in  preaching."  He  felt  it  to  be  his  duly  to  enjoy,  if  possi- 
ble, the  benefit  of  all  God's  ordinances,  and  to  seek  them  in  a 
breign  huid,  if  they  could  not  be  found  at  home.  He  was  exposed 
D  line,  imprisonment,  and  all  manner  of  persecution,  and  be  saw 
BO  divine  command  to  remain  and  suffer,  when  the  Lord  bad - 
providentially  opened  a  way  of  escape.     He  regarded,  however. 


1  LIFE    OF  THOMAS   SHEPARD. 

not  BO  much  his  own  persona]  qciiel  and  safety  ns  "  (he  gloiy  of 
vtUose  litierties  in  New  England,"  which  the  people  of  Godscemud 
about  to  enjoy,  and  the  influence  which  he  might  exert  in  secur* 
ing  and  defending  lliem.  It  was  urged  by  soine  who  did  not  wish 
to  eraigralc,  thai  he  might  remain  in  the  north  of  England,  and 
preach  privalely  ;■  but  he  was  convinced  that  this  would  expose  him 
to  danger,  and  he  waa  not  satisfied  that  it  was  hia  duty  to  hazard 
his  personal  liberty,  and  the  comfort  and  safety  of  bis  family,  tor 
what  waa  by  alt  claseea  deemed  a  disorderly  manner  of  preach- 
ing, when  be  might  exercise  liis  talent  publicly  and  honorably  in 
New  England.  Finally,  be  considered  how  sad  a  thing  it  would  / 
be,  if  he  should  die,  to  leave  his  wife  and  child  in  "  that  rude  ' 
place  of  the  north,  where  there  was  nothing  but  barbarous  wick- 
edness," and  "  how  sweet  it  would  be  lo  leave  them  among  God's 
people,"  however  poor. 

Thesf  considerations  appeared  t«  him  of  sufflcient  weight  to 
justify  his  speedy  departure,  "  before  the  pursuivants  came  out" 
to  render  his  escape  impracticable.  And  afterward,  when  the 
removal  of  the  New  England  Puritans  was  spoken  of,  by  some 
of  their  brethren  at  home,  as  a  treacherous  and  cowardly  flight 
from  the  duty  of  suffering,  the  same  reasons,  eubslantially,  were 
assigned  by  him,  in  his  answer  to  Ball,  as  a  complete  vindication 
of  their  conduct.  "  Was  it  not,"  he  says,  "a  time  when  human 
worship  and  inventions  were  grown  to  such  an  intolerable  height, 
that  the  consciences  of  God's  jicuple,  enlightened  in  the  truth, 
could  no  longer  bear  them?  Was  not  llie  power  of  the  tyran- 
nical prelates  so  great,  that,  like  a  strong  current,  it  carried  ev- 
ery thing  down  stream  before  it?  Did  not  the  hearts  of  men 
generally  fail  them  P  Where  was  the  people  to  be  found  that 
would  cleave  lo  their  godly  ministers  in  their  suETcrin^,  but  rath- 
er thought  it  their  discretion  to  provide  for  their  own  quiet  and 
safety  ?  What  would  men  have  us  do  in  such  a  case  ?  Must  we 
study  some  diijtinciions  lo  salve  our  consciences  in  complying 
with  go  manifold  corruptions  in  God's  worship?  or  should  we  live 
without  God's  ordinances,  because  we  could  not  partake  in  the 
corrupt  administration  of  them  ?     It  is   true  we   might  have 


tlFK   or   TBOXAS   8BEPARD. 

Buffered ;  we  might  easily  have  fouciii  (he  way  to  have  filied  the 
prisons ;  and  some  had  iheir  share  iu  llicse  suSeriogs.  But 
whether  we  were  called  to  this  when  a.  wide  door  of  liberty  waa^ 
•el  open,  and  our  witnesses  to  the  truth,  through  the  malignant 
policy  of  those  times,  could  not  testify  openly  before  the  world, 
but  were  smothered  up  in  close  prisons,  we  leave  to  be  consid- 
ered. We  can  not  see  but  the  rule  of  Christ  to  his  apo»tles,  and  "^ 
ihe  practice  of  God's  saints  in  all  ages,  may  allow  us  this  liberty 
A  well  as  others  —  to  fly  into  the  wilderness  from  the  face  of  the 
dragon.  The  infinite  and  only-wise  God  bath  many  works  to  do 
D  the  world ;  and,  by  his  singul&r  providence,  he  gives  gifts  to 
Its  servants,  and  disposes  them  to  his  work  as  seems  unto  him 
best.  If  the  Lord  will  have  some  to  bear  witness  by  imprison- 
nl,  mutilation,  etc.,  he  give-s  tliem  spirits  suitable  to  ihia  work, 
1  we  honor  ihem  in  it.  If  he  will  have  others  instrumental  to 
promote  refornialion  in  England,  we  honor  them,  and  rejoice  in 
iheir  holy  endeavor,  and  pray  for  a  blessing  upon  Ibem  and  their 
labors.  And  what  if  Goil  will  have  his  church  built  up  also  in 
these  remote  parts  of  the  world,  that  his  name  may  be  known  to 
the  heathen,  or  whatsoever  other  end  he  has,  and  for  this  purpose 
will  send  forth  a  company  of  weok-hcarted  Christians,  who  dare 
not  stay  at  home  to  suffer,  why  should  we  not  let  the  Lord  alone, 
Mid  rejoice  that  Christ  is  preached,  howsoever  and  whereso-  * 
ever  ?  "  • 

Having  fully  resolved  to  leave  England  at  the  first  favorable 
opportunity,  Mr.  Shepard  took  leave  of  his  friends  in  the  north, 
where  he  had  labored  fur  about  a  year ;  and  in  the  beginning  of 
June,  1 634,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  child,  and  maid  servant,  he  y. 
left  NewcAstlc  st^ereily,  for  fear  of  the  pursuivants,  on  board  a  \ 
«oal  vessel  bound  to  Ipnwich,  ibe  principal  town  in  Suffolk.  He 
naini'd  a  short  time  in  Ipswich,  first  in  the  family  of  Mr. 
RuMell,  and  then  with  his  friend  Mr.  Collins,  both  of  whom 
Vrro  afterward  prominent  members  of  the  church  in  Cambridge. 
From  Ijlawieh  he  made  a  journey  to  Earles-CoUie,  where  he 

•  TnaliM  of  ijturgiM,  Pref  pp  4-6. 


Xai  LIFE    OF  THOMAS   BHEPASD. 

lived  very  privately  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Harlakeiidon,  (Vom 
whom  lie  received  every  attention  which  hiii  forlura  situation  rc- 
quii'ed.  Here  he  passed  the  eummcr  of  1634.  This  period,  in 
which  he  was  "so  lossed  up  and  down,"  having  no  permanent 
place  of  residence,  and  being  obliged  to  keep  himself  (xincealed 
from  the  notice  of  the  hishops,  he  found  "  the  most  uncomforiable 
and  fruitless  to  his  own  soul  especially,"  that  he  ever  experi- 
enced. He  tlierefore  longed  to  be  In  New  England  as  soon  as 
pOBsible  i  and,  as  a  number  of  friends,  among  whom  was  John 
XortcD,  were  preparing  lo  emigrate  at  the  dose  of  that  sum- 
mer, he  determined  to  accompany  them.  The  ship  in  which 
Itbey  expected  lo  sail  was  the  Hope,  of  Ipswich,  and  the  time 
fixed  for  their  departure  was  the  early  part  of  September. 
Although  the  season  n-aa  so  far  advanced  that  Ihcy  must  arrive 
on  the  bleak  coast  of  New  England  toward  the  beginning  of 
winter,  yet  as  dangers  thickened  around  them,  — as  the  master, 
Mr.  Gurling,  was  an  able  seaman  and  very  friendly  to  the  emi- 
grants, —  as  the  hhip  was  a  large  and  good  one.  —  and  as  they 
were  assured  by  the  caplain  that  he  would  certainly  sail  at  the 
lime  appointed,  —  they  were  wilUng  lo  encounter  the  perils  of 
the  voyage  at  that  season. 

All  necessary  arrangements  having  been  made,  Mr.  Shepard 
repaired,  with  his  family,  to  Ipswich,  for  the  purpose  of  embark* 
ing.  The  ship,  however,  was  not  ready  to  sail,  and  they  were 
detained  six  or  eight  weeks  beyond  the  lime  agreed  u|)on.  The 
company  were  now  in  great  perjdesily  and  distress.  The  win- 
ter was  rapidly  approaching,  and  the  \'oj'i^e  becoming  every  day 
more  dangerous.  They  were  surrounded  by  enemies,  and  con- 
stantly liable  to  be  discovered  and  arrested  by  the  savage  pur- 
suivants. Some  of  them  feared  lliat  this  detention  might  be  a 
divine  chastisement  sent  upon  them  for  "  rushing  onward  too 
soon."  Mr.  Sbepard  was  for  b  while  in  great  heaviness  of  soul, 
and  had  many  fears  and  doubts  in  relation  to  ibis  enterprise. 
He  had  gone  too  far  to  relinquish  the  voyage,  and  the  only  al- 
ternative was  to  proceed  ;  but  from  that  time  he  resolved  "  never 
to  go  about  a  sad  busiiicss  in  the  dark,  unless  God's   Hill,  within 


LIFE   OP  THOMAS   SITKPARD.  XCIII 

■$  well  as  without"  was  "very  strong,  and  clear,  and  comfort- 
able." 

While  the  compiiny  were  ihus  anxiously  and  impatiently  wait- 
ing for  the  ship  to  sail,  Sir.  SUep4ird  find  Mr.  Norton  were  kmd- 
ly  concealed  and  provided  for  in  the  house  of  a  worthy  man, 
who  exerted  himself  nobly,  and  at  some  hazard  to  himself,  in 
their  behalf.  Many  of  the  pious  people  in  the  town  resorted  pri-y/ 
vateJy  to  these  men  of  God  for  instrutrtion.  At  the  same  time 
their  enemies  were  eagerly  wateliing  for  tliem,  and  using  all  pos- 
■iUe  mesiu  to  entrap  and  appreiiend  Uiem.  These  hunters  of 
Boub,  failing  in  all  their  etTorts  to  draw  their  prey  into  the  open 
field,  and  being  restrained  hy  law  from  breaking  into  the  asylum 
to  which  they  hod  Qed,  at  last  persuaded  a  young  man,  who  li^ed 
in  the  house  where  Mr.  Shepard  lodged,  by  a  large  sum  of 
money,  to  promise  that,  at  a.  certain  hour  of  a  night  agreed  ujion, 
he  would  open  the  door  for  their  peaceable  entrance  into  this 
BUtctnary.  The  youth,  who  was  frequently  in  the  presence  of 
ipard,  and  heard  tlie  words  of  grace  and  the  fervent 
which  he  uttered,  became  deeply  impressed  with  the 
I  that  this  was  a  holy  roan  of  God ;  and  lliat  to  betray 
him  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies  would  be  a  heinous  crime. 
He  began  to  repent  of  his  bargain.  As  the  nighl  in  which  he  v 
wu  to  execute  his  vrickcJ  purpose  drew  near,  he  became  greatly 
■gitaied  with  sorrow,  fear,  and  regret,  insomuch  that  his  master 
noticed  the  remadcable  change  in  his  appearance  and  conduct, 
and  qaestioned  him  as  to  the  cause  of  his  apparent  distress.  At 
fint  he  was  unwilling  to  reveal  the  truth,  and  for  some  time 
evaded  the  inquiries  of  the  family ;  but  at  length,  by  the  urgent 
ek{iostulatinns  of  his  master,  he  was  brought  to  confess  with 
tears,  that  on  such  a  night,  he  had  promised  lo  let  in  men  to 
1  I4if)rehend  the  godly  minister.  Mr.  Shepard  was  immeiliittely 
eouveyed  away  to  a  place  of  safety  by  his  friends ;  and  when 
9  mea  came  at  the  time  appointed,  the  bird  had  escaped  from 
e  of  the  fowler.  Not  finding  ilie  door  unbolted,  as  they 
I  when  they  raised  the  latch,  they  thrust  their  staves 
r  b  to  Ufl  it  from  its  hinge* ;  but  being  ofaterved  by  some 


LIFE   OF   THOlua    I 


persons  wliom  the  good  man  of  iho  house  liad  prudently  em- 
ployed for  tlmt  purpose,  they  precipilittely  lied,  le^t  they  shoulJ 
be  arrested  and  dealt  with  as  liousebreakers.* 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Mr.  Slippard  sails  from  Harwirh.  —  Danger  of  shipwreck  npon  (ho  snnds,  — 
Mull  overboard.  —  Windy  Salurday.  —  PrOTiduntial  liclivprance.  —  Goci 
on  ihoro  Bl  Yarmoath. —  Child  taken  sick  and  dies.  —  Feelings  of  Mr. 
Shepurd.  —  Thinks  of  abandooing  ihe  voyage,  -r  ErobarrMameats.  —  Mrs. 
Corbel  l^rnisbes  an  asylum  at  Bostwitk.  —  Employ  men  t.  —  Writes  "  Se- 
lect Cases." —  Goes  to  London. —  Second  cbild  bom.  —  Escapes  from  ihe 
pnrsuivants —  Spends  ihc  summer  in  London.  —  Embarks  for  New  Eng- 
land in  the  Drfansc.  —  Ship  springs  a  leak,  —  Mrs.  Shepard  provideo- 
tittllj  saved  from  dcalli.  —  Arrival  at  Boslen. 

Os  the  ICth  of  October,  1634,  Mr.  Shepard  and  his  friends 
Bailed  from  Harwich,  a  seaport  in  Essex,  at  the  mouth  of  tlie 
Kiver  Stour.  Thej  had  proceeded  but  a  few  leagues,  when,  the 
wind  suddenly  changing,  they  were  obliged  to  ca^t  anchor  in  a 
very  dangerous  place.  The  wind  continued  to  blow  ali  night, 
and,  OR  the  morning  of  the  17lh,  became  so  violent  that  the  ship 
dragged  her  anchors,  and  was  driven  upon  Ihe  sands  near  the 
harbor  of  Harwich,  where  she  waa  for  some  time  in  the  moat 
imminent  peril.  To  add  to  their  distress,  one  of  ihe  sailors,  in 
endeavoring  lo  execute  some  order,  fell  overboard,  and  was 
carried  a  miic  or  mure  out  Ic  sea,  apparently  beyond  the  reach 
of  any  human  aid.  The  ship  and  crew  were  at  that  moment  in 
so  much  danger,  that  no  one  could  bo  spared  lo  go  in  search  of 
him,  if,  indeed,  the  boat  could  have  lived  a  moment  in  the  sea  that 
was  breaking  around  them ;  and  when  the  immediate  danger  to 
the  ship  was  over,  no  one  on  board  supposed  that  the  ]>oor  man 
was  alive.  He  was,  however,  discovered  floating  apou  the 
waves  at  a  great  distance,  though  it  was  known  that  he  was  not 
able  to  swim ;   and  three   seamen  put  off  in  the  boat,  at  the 

f  Johnson's  Wonder- working  Providence,  ch.  S9. 


LIFE   or  THOUA3   SUEPARD. 


fcaianl  of  iheir  lives,  to  save  him.  When  they  reached  him,  / 
Uicagh  he  was  Aoaiing,  —  supported,  a^  it  were,  by  a  divine  \/ 
hand,  —  he  exhibited  no  signs  of  life;  and  huving  laken  him 
oo  board,  they  laid  him  in  ilie  bottom  of  lltc  boat,  supposing 
a  to  be  dead.  One  of  the  men,  however,  was  unwilling  to 
e  up  his  shipmate  without  using  all  the  means  in  their  power 
fer  his  resugeiiaiion.  Upon  [urning  his  head  downward,  in  order 
0  let  the  water  run  out,  he  began  to  breathe  ;  in  a  few  moments, 
mder  such  treatment  as  their  good  sense  suggesle<l,  he  was  nblu 
'  to  move  and  to  speak ;  and  by  tlie  lime  they  reached  Ibe  ship,  he 
bad  recovered  the  use  of  his  limbs,  having  been  in  the  water 

■e  tliaa  an   hour.     This  incident  is  interesting  mainly  on  lie-  ~ 
eouiit  of  the  prophetic  use  that  was  made  of  it  by  one  of  the  pas- 
•engei^  probably  either  Mr,  Shepnrd  or  Mr.  Norton,  tn  his  efforts 
to  encourage  the  desponding' eompitny.     "This  man's  danger  and    I 
vcrance,"  said  he,  "  is  a  type  of  oun.     We  are  in  great  dan-    ' 
ger.  and  yet  the  Lord's  power  will  be  shown  in  saving  us."  ■ 

The  event  eorresponded  to  the  prediction,  and  (he  strong  faith 
of  the  man  of  God,  like  that  of  Paul,  in  his  stormy  voyage  to 
Borne,  was  rewarded  by  the  deliverance  which  it  confidently  ex- 
peeied.  The  ship,  that  was  driving  rapidly  toward  the  shore,  and 
actually  touching  the  sands  with  her  keel,  was,  by  some  means, 
turned  about,  and  beaten  back  toward  Yarmouth  Roads,  "  an 
[>en  place  at  sea,  fit  for  anchorage,  but  otherwise  a  very  danger- 
is  place."  Here  they  came  to  anchor,  and  hoped  to  ride  out 
tfiv  gale.  But  on  Saturday  morning,  October  18,  the  storm 
felcreascd  in  violence,  and  the  wind  from  the  west  blew  with 
iSncb  destructive  fury,  that  the  day  was  long  known  among  the 
'^habitants  of  tlie  coast  as  the  Windy  StUurday.  Many  vessels 
Terc  owl  away  in  this  storm ;  and  among  them  the  collier  which 
trought  Mr.  Shepnrd  from  Newcastle,  the  captain  and  all  hia 
nm  being  losu  When  the  wind  arose,  the  anchors  were  thrown 
out;  but  the  cables  parted  immediately,  and  the  ship  drifted  rap- 
idly toward  llie  sands,  where  her  destruction  seemed  inevitable. 
The  master  gave  up  all  for  lost,  and  the  pns.<engera  resorted  to 
pmycr.     Gum  were  fired  for  lutsislniice  from  the  town  i  but, 


SaA  LIFt   OF   TUOUAg    SilErARD 

'although  thouMinds  were  spectators  of  their  danger,  and  Ur;^ 
rewards  were  offered  lo  any  who  would  veiiiure  their  lives  to 
iave  the  p!i£sengers  and  crew,  ^'et  so  dreadful  was  the  sionn  that 
that  DO  one  (»uld  be  prevailed  upon  to  volunteer  in  this  service. 
It  was  known  among  the  erowd  that  gazed  from  the  walls  of 
Yarmouth  upon  Ihi.'i  terrible  secne,  ihat  the  ship  was  full  of 
Puriinn  emigranls,  and  therefore  a  peculiar  interest  was  felt  in 
the  catastrophe  which  seemed  to  await  her  —  some  fervently 
praying  ihat  the  Lord  would  deliver  his  people  from  (he  danger 
that  threatened  them,  and  otliers,  probably,  impiously  rejoicing 
in  their  anticipated  deslruclion.  One  man,  an  officer  of  some 
kind,  ventured  to  give  expression  to  the  feelings  which  were 
cherished  by  many.  With  a  spirit  of  prophecy  somewhat  like  . 
that  of  Balaam  when  be  was  constrained  to  bless  with  his  moutti 
the  people  whom  he  cursed  in  his  heart,  he  scoflingly  exclaimed, 
that  he  "pitied  the  poor  collier  in  the  road,"  —  referring  lo  the 
coal  vessel  in  which  Mr.  Shepard  had  sailed  from  Newcastle,— 
"but  for  the  Puritans  in  the  other  ship  he  felt  no  coneero,  for , 
(lieir  faith  would  save  them." 

And  their  faith  —  or  rather  the  Lord  in  whom  they  trusted, 
and  for  whose  glory  they  had  encountered  perils  by  sea  as  well  aa 
*/ by  land — did  save  them,  in  a  retnarkable  way  and  by  unex- 
pected means.  The  captain  and  the  sailors  had  lost  all  presence 
of  mind;  and  believing  that  the  storm  was  preternatural,  and 
that  the  ship  was  bewitched,  they  made  use  of  the  only  means  of 
escape  they  could  think  of,  whieh  was  nailing  two  red-hot  horse* 
shoes  to  the  mainmast  as  a  charm.*  But  there  was  ou  board  a 
drunken  fellow,  "  no  sailor,  though  he  had  oAeo  been  to  sco," 
who  had  taken  it  into  hia  head  to  accompany  these  pious  people 
to  New  England,  to  whose  cool  judgment  they  now,  under  God, 
owed  their  deliverance.  Instead  of  nailing  horseshoes  to  the 
mast,  he  advised  Ihat  it  should  be  cut  away,  as  the  only  pos- 
sible method  of  saving  the  ship.  The  captain  and  the  crew,  be- 
wildered by  terror,  were  incapithle  of  listening  to  advice;  and 

•  Juhmon,  Uift,  N.  Eng.  th.  29. 


t  lasl  Cock. —  for  tliat  was  the  man's  name,  —  assuming  the 
lesponsibilit}',  called  for  hutcheta,  and  encouraging  Ihe  company 
ind  Ihe  seamen,  who  were  "  forlorn  anJ  hopeless  of  life,"  lliey 
eut  the  maste  by  the  board,  just  nt  the  moment  when  all  had 
{iven  themselves  up  for  lost,  expecting  "  to  see  neither  New  nor 
Old  Engl&nd,  nor  faces  of  friends  any  more." 

When  (he  mast  was  down,  a  email  anchor,  which  remained, 
•US  thrown  out ;  but  it  being  very  light,  the  ship  dragged,  and 
continued  lo  drift  rapidly  toward  the  shore.  The  sailors,  aup- 
pcKing  that  ilie  anchor  was  gone,  or  that  it  would  not  hold, 
pmnled  to  Ihe  devouring  sands,  where  so  many  vessels  had  been 
Ingulfed,  and  bade  the  passengers  behold  the  place  where  their 
^nres  should  shortly  be.  The  captain  declared  that  lie  had 
e  all  that  he  could,  and  de.iired  the  mini^teri  to  praj  for  help 
ftum  above.  Accordingly,  Mr-  Norton,  wiih  ihe  passengers,  two 
hundred  in  number,  in  one  place,  and  Mr.  Shepard,  with  tht  / 
■larinera  upon  deck,  "  went  lo  prayer,"  and  committed  their 
"  M>ul«  snd  bodies  unto  the  Lord  that  gave  them."  Immediately 
afler  prayer,  the  violence  of  the  wind  began  to  abate,  and  the 
1^  riiip  ceased  to  drift.  The  last  anchor  was  not  lost,  as  they 
thought,  but  was  dragged  along,  plowing  the  sand  by  the  vio- 
lence of  the  wind,  which  abating  afler  prayer,  though  still  violent, 
'■the  ship  was  stopped  just  when  it  was  ready  to  be  swol- 
laved  up  of  the  sands."  They  were  still,  however,  in  great  dan- 
ger, fur  the  wind  was  high,  and  though  the  anchor  bail  brought 
Ihe  ship  up,  yet  the  "  cable  was  let  out  so  far  that  a  little  rojw 
brld  the  cable,  and  the  cable  the  lillle  anchor,  and  the  lit- 
tle nochor  the  great  ship  in  this  great  slorm."  When  one 
of  the  company,  whose  faith  was  stronger  than  cable  or 
tempest,  saw  how  strangely  they  were  preserved,  exclaimed, 
•*  Ttiat  ihrcjwl  we  hang  by  "  —  for  so  he  called  the  rope  attached 
lo  llic  cable — "will  save  us."  And  so,  indeed,  it  did,  "the 
I.onl  fhowing  hie  dreadful  power,  and  yet  his  unspeakable  rich 
mercy  toward  u»,  who  heard,  nay,  helped  uf,  when  we  could  not 
07,  tfarongh  the  disconsolate  fears  we  bad,  out  of  these  depths  of 
Beat  iur!  miseries."  This  delirerancc  was  so  great,  and  so  moni- 
yoi-  I.  1' 


feslly  wrought  in  answer  lo  pr»yer,  that  Mr.  Shepard  thoughl,  if 
he  ever  reached  the  shore  Rgaiii,  he  should  live  like  one  riaen 
from  ihe  dead ;  and  he  desired  that  this  mercy,  lo  him  and  his 
family,  might  he  rememhered  lo  the  glory  of  God,  by  his  "  chil- 
dreo  and  their  children's  children,"  when  he  was  deud,  and  could 
not  "  praise  the  Lottl  in  the  land  of  the  living  any  more." 

They  remained  on  board  during  the  night  in  comparative  safe- 
ty, —  ihe  Btorm  continuing  to  abate,  —  hut  in  a  very  coraforlless 
condition.  Many  were  sict,  '''  many  weak  and  discouraged,"  and 
there  were  "  many  Bad  hearts,"  On  Sabbath  morning,  October 
19,  ihey  went  on  shore.  The  Puritans  were  very  strict  in  iheir 
observance  of  the  Sabbath ;  and  Mr.  Shepard  thought  that  they 
were  in  too  much  haste  to  leave  the  ship,  and  that  they  ought  to 
have  spent  the  day  on  board  in  praising  the  Lord  for  his  signal 
interposition  in  their  behalf.  But  there  were  many  feeble  per- 
sons among  them  who  were  unable  to  engage  in  religious  exer- 
cises, and  had  need  of  refreshment  on  shore ;  and  besides,  they 
were  "  afraid  of  neglecting  a  season  of  providence  in  going 
out  while  they  had  a  calm ; "  for  they  were  held,  as  it  were, 
by  *'  a  thread,"  and  if  the  wind  should  rise  again,  they  might  all 
find  their  graves  in  the  sand^.  Mr.  Shepard  and  his  family  Ictl 
the  ship  in  Ihe  first  boat  thai  was  sent  from  the  town  to  lake  off 
the  passengers.  And  here  ihey  were  visited  hy  a  new  and  more 
ibitter  affliction.  Thej  were  saved  from  the  devouring  waters  to 
'w  smitten  by  the  sudden  and  mysterious  death  of  ibeir  only 
child,  now  about  a  year  old.  In  the  passage  from  the  ship  to 
the  shore,  he  was  seized  with  vomiting,  which  no  means  they 
could  use,  although  they  hod  all  necessary  medical  aid  at 
Yarmouth,  could  cheek.  After  lingering  for  a  fortnight  in 
great  distress,  he  died,  and  wa^  buried  at  Yarmouth.  The 
funeral  was  conducted  very  privately ;  and  it  was  no  small 
aggravation  of  the  sorrow  which  they  felt  for  the  loss  of  their 
first  bom,  that  Mr.  Shepard  dared  not  be  present,  lesl  the  pur- 
suivants should  discover  and  apprehend  him.  For  as  soon  as 
they  were  ashore,  says  Scotlou,  "  two  vipers-  designed  not  only 
to  leap  upon  the  hands  "  of  Shepard  and  Norton,  "but  to  seize 


LlfE   or  THOMAS   SnF.r&RD.  X 

tlicir  i)er8onB.     But  bow  strangely  preserved  is  not  unknowc 
aoutt  of  111."  ■ 

in  interesting  to  learn  whftt  were  the  feelings  and  exer- 
tisea  of  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Shepard  under  afiUctions  like  these  t 
for  the  inward  experiences  of  such  minds  turnbli  great  lessons 

la.  There  whs  no  murmuring  under  the  rod.  The  feeling  of  V  ,■ 
lits  heart  wo.*  thai  of  a  loving  child  kindly  chastised  by  a  ten-  v 
der  father ;  and  be  saw  in  every  blow  a  manifestation  „. 
divine  love,  and  a  corrective  of  his  waywardness.  As  if  the  ^ 
Iiord  "saw  that  these  waters  were  not  sufficient  to  wash  away 
tny  sinfulness,  be  cost  me  into  the  fire.  He  showed  me  my 
weak  faith,  pride,  carnal  content,  immoderate  love  of  creatures, 
r  my  child  espedally,  and  begat  in  me  some  desires  and 
purposes  to  fear  his  name.  I  considered  how  unfit  I  was  to 
to  such  a  good  land  as  New  England  with  such  an  un- 
mortilied,  hard,  dark,  formal,  hypocritical  heart;  and  therefore  ''i 

wonder  if  the  Lord  did  thus  cross  me."  He  even  began  to 
fear  —  such  was  his  tenderness  of  conscience,  and  desire  lo^ 
walk  in  nil  the  commandments  and  ordinances  of  the  Lord 
bloindcss  —  that  his  affliction  came,  in  part,  for  "running  too 
titr  in  a  way  of  separation  from  the  mixed  assemblies  in 
England,"  though  this,  of  all  his  sins,  must  have  been  the 
inallesi,  for  he  did  not  forsake  tiie  church  until  he  was  driven 
from  it  hy  arbitrary  force  ;  and  ho  always  believed  and  de- 
dared  —  what  none  of  the  Puritans  ever  denied  —  that  there 
I  "true  churches  in  many  parishes  in  England,"  and  also 
true  minislcr»  of  the  gospel,  whose  preaching  he  never  refused 
to  hear   when  he   had  opportunity. 

One  effect  of  these  afflictions  —  the  sudden  death  of  his  only 
child,  and  the  tremendous  storm  which  seemed  like  a  frown  of 
I  Providence  upon  their  voyage —  was  to  diminish  very  much  his  A 
>^de«ir«  of  emigrating  to  New  England,  and  to  make  him  almost 
willing  to  remain  and  sutTcr  at  home.     This  state  of  mind,  how- 

•  CtiroiiideB  of  Miua.  MO,  DOt«. 


i    OF    THOJfAS    SnEPARD. 

e  long,  ^'hen  be  remenibercd  tliaL  be  had 
been  tooscd  from  one  end  of  England  lo  the  oihcr :  that  tliere  was 
no  place  in  bie  niilive  land  where  he  could  preach  the  gospel ; 
thiil,  so  long  06  he  refused  cunformily  to  the  errors  and  corruptions 
of  the  ebureh,  nothing  but  "  twnds  and  afflictions  "  awuilcd  him ; 
that  a  "  door  of  escape  "  waa  f  rovidentially  opened ;  and  Ihat,  in 
this  distant  land,  he  should  not  only  be  beyond  tiie  reach  of  the 
bishops,  but  tind  a  place  tvliere  he  might  labor  for  the  cause  of 
Christ,  —  hia  desire  to  emigrate  revived,  and  he  resolved  that, 
as  soon  as  practicable,  lie  would  make  another  attempt  to  place 
the  ocean  between  him  and  bis  persecutors. 

In  the  mean  time,  he  was  in  great  distress,  not  knowing  where 
to  go,  nor  what  to  do.  The  Philistines  were  upon  him.  There 
seemed  to  be  uo  place  of  safety.  He  could  neither  labor  for  a 
subsistence,  nor  could  his  friends,  without  great  danger,  minister 
effectually  to  liis  necessities.  In  this  time  <rf'  need,  —  Ibe  most 
trying  and  apparently  hopeless  he  had  ever  experieJiced,  — 
s^  Roger  Ilarlakenden  and  his  brother  Samuel,  having  heard  of 
Ilia  escape  from  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  and  of  worse  dangers  to 
whiclk  he  was  still  exposed  upon  land,  visited  him,  and  refreshed 
his  spirit  by  their  sympathy  and  assistance.  While  casting 
about  where  to  spend  the  winter  that  was  approaching,  Mr, 
Bridge,  minister  oi'  Norwich,  kindly  offered  him  an  asylum  in 
his  fiunily.  But  a  Mrs.  Corbet,  an  aged  and  eminently  pious 
woman,  who  lived  about  live  miles  from  Norwich,  fearing  that 
Mr.  Bridge  might  hazard  his  liberty  by  harboring  the  fugitive, 
invited  hira  to  occupy  a  house  of  hers,  then  vacant,  at  Bastwick, 
a  small  hamlet  in  the  counly  of  Norfolk.  And  she  not  only  fur- 
nished him  with  a  house  whicli  "  was  lit  to  entertain  any  prince, 
for  faimess,  greatness,  and  pleasantness,"  but,  in  various  ways, 
endeavored  to  render  Ibe  season  of  his  detention  and  confine- 
nient  as  comfortable  as  possible.  Here,  with  his  wife  and  a  few 
friends,  —  Mr.  Harlakenden  defraying  the  whole  expense  of 
housekeeping,  —  he  passed  the  winter  of  1634— 5,  far  from  the 
notice  of  his  enemies,  and  solaced  by  "  sweet  fellowship  one  with 


LIFE   OF   TBO^IAS   SIIEI-ARD. 

■.noihtT,  and  also  with  God."     Nor  was  be  idle  in  lliis  comrort- 
ablp  reireat.     For,  although  he   could  not  preach  publicly,  he      J 
Gould  employ  his  pen  ftft*  the  instruction  and  consolation  of  bis 
afflicted  friends,  and,  by  diligent  study,  prepare  himself  for  that 
wrvice  lo  which  be  n-aa  soon  to  be  called,  in  the  new  world. 
Il  was  during  this  season  that  he  wrote  the  little  work,  lirat  pub- 
lished at  London  in  1648,  entitled  "Select  Cases  Resolved,"    . 
in  a  letter  to  a  pious  friend,  who  hail  fallen  into  doubt  and  diffi-^ 
cnlty  resperting  the  questions  tfaerein  discussed.     In  tbe  title 
pages  of  tlie  first  two  editions,  lliis  letter  is  said  to  have  been 
'.  from  New  England ;  but,  from  several  expressions  at  tbe 
eommencr-ment  and  at  the  elose,  it  is  evident  that  it  was  writi 
in  Eng;land.  and  upon  the  eve  of  his  departure  from  that  country ; 
for  be  says,  *  It  nay  poesiblj  be  my  dying  tetter  to  you  before 
I  depart  from  hence  and  return  to  Him,  as  not  knowing  but  our 
last  disasters  and  sea  straits,  of  which  I  wrote  to  you,  may  be 
but  the  preparation  for  the  execution  of  the  nejtt  approaching 
Toyap!."     And  again,  in  tbe  conclusion  :  "  I  thank  you  heartily 
improving  me   this  way  of  writing,  who  have  my  month 
tKiftped  from  tpeaJnng,"  —  a  calamity   which    certainly   never 
befell  him  in  New  England,  — ''  and  remember,  when  you  are 
bi^i  able  to  pray  for  yourself,  to  look  ader  me  and  mine,  a 
'all  that  go  with  me  on  the  mighty  waters;  and  then  to  Iqok  up 
■nd  sigh  to  heaven  for  me,  that  the  I»nl  would,  out  of  bis  free 
gnev,  but  bring  me  lo  that  good  land,  and  those  glorious  ordi- 
nances, and  that  there  I  may  but  behold  the  lace  of  the  Lord  in 
hit  temple  "  —  a  reiiuest  which  Ue  never  had  occasion  to  make 
alirr  landing  on  these  shores.    Of  this  letter,  written  in  a  time 
^■at  trial,  and  coming  from  a  mind  itself  needing  all  the  ccHisola- 
tion"  of  friendship  and  religion,  il  is  only  necessary  to  say,  in  I 
)ai>guagc  of  lho«e  who  first  gave   it  lo  the  public,  that  it  is  **  ?o    . 
fbll  of  grace  and  truth,  that  it  needs  no  other  epistle  commendav 
tory  than  itielf,"  and  no  one  who  desires  to  walk  comfortably 
with  God,  in  his  general  and  jiarlieular  calling,  can  study  these 
■ncwerii  in  which  aculeness,  depth,  piety,  and  Christian  experi- 


ai  LIFE  OF  Tnoiua  sheparp.  , 

euce  are  so  eminently  and  Lappily  blended,  wiilioul  becoming  a^ 

Early  in  the  spring  of  1635,  Mr.  Shepard,  accompanied  by  hia 
fi'icnd  Ilnrlakenduii,  went  up  to  London,  in  order  to  make  uU 
nei'cssary  preparation  for  anotlier  attempt  to  leave  Kngland. 
During  the  journey,  trbii^h  tieema  to  have  been  Bomewhiit  pro- 
tracted, he  was  nearly  deprived  of  his  faithful  and  devoted  wife. 
Al  the  bouse  of  Mr.  Burroug^lis,  a  Puritan  minister,  where  tbey 
slopped  about  a  fortnight,  Mrs.  Sbepurd,  being  near  her  confine- 
menl,  "  fell  down  from  the  top  of  a  pair  of  sIbIfb  to  the  bottom  ; 
yet  the  Lord  kept  ber,  and  the  child  also,  from  that  deadly  dan- 
ger." Upon  their  arrival  at  London,  in  the  very  neighborhood 
of  tbeir  "  great  enemy,"  Laud,  and  not  knowing  where  t«  hide 
tbemselvea,  a  Mra.  Sbcrboume  provided  a  "  very  private  pkce" 
for  them  ;  where,  on  Sunday,  April  5,  1 635,  their  second  son  was 
\  bom,  whom  tbey  named  Thomas,  after  his  brother  who  died  at 
Yarmouth.  The  raolher  soon  recoi'ered,  but  the  child  was  sickly, 
and  at  one  time  they  thought  he  would  have  died  of  a  sore 
mouth.  Mr.  Sliepard  had  more  conRdence  in  prayer  than  in  the 
physician's  ekill ;  and  in  the  night  ha  was  "stirred  up  to  pray" 
for  the  life  of  the  child,  and  "  that  with  very  much  fervor,  and 
many  arguments;"  and  thus,  after  a  sad,  heavy  night,  the 
si  Lord  shined  upon  him  in  the  morning,  and  he  found  the 
sore  mouth,  which  was  thought  lo  be  incurable,  "  suddenly 
and  strangely  amended."  Tliey  had  not  been  long  in  London 
before  their  hiding-place  was  discovered  by  their  enemies,  and 
in  order  lo  escape  from  the  "  vipers  "  ihat  were  ready  to  fasten 
upon  them,  they  renioved  by  niglit  to  a  house  belonging  to  Mr. 
Alured,  whieli,  providentially,  stood  emply.  Tlie  pursuiviinl!', 
who  were  sent  to  apprehend  Mr.  Slicpni-i),  were  a  llltle  too  hile; 
for,  upon  entering  the  place  where  he  liod  been  secreted,  they 
found  that  the  whole  family  Imd  gone,  no  one  knew  whilher ; 
and  thus  once  more  the  Lord  delivered  his  faithful  servant  from 
Ihc  snares  which  bad  been  laid  for  him, 

•  PrtTuM  to  8*l*ct  Cmh  R»ki1vmI. 


LIFE   OF  THOUAB   SHBPASD.  CUl 

In  the  clo»eai  retiremcDL,  but  not  wiUiout  much  sympathy 
and  mttiif  tokens  of  love  from  Cbristutn  friends,  Mr.  Shcpard  and 
his  familj  parsed  the  summer  of  1G35  in  Londoii.  Toward 
the  close  of  the  summer,  —  Mrs.  Shepard  and  the  child  having 
Kcovcretl  their  slrenglb  in  some  measure,  —  they  began  to  pre- 

ire  again  for  iheir  removal  to  New  England.     The  reasons 


D  the  yi 

>  longer  any  place 


before  still  existud, 


ivbic-h  liad  led  ihein  to  this  deeij 
fritb  perhaps  increasing  force  ;  a 

^kol,  every  day,  that  there  was  no  longer  any  place  or  duty  for 
jhem  in  England.  Several  "precious  friends"  were  resolved, 
I  waiting  to  sail  with  Mr.  Shepord,  among  whom  were  Roger 
JQarUfcenden,  Mr.  Chnmpney,  Mr.  Wtlsou,  Mr.  Jones,  after- 
ynrd  colleague  with  Mr.  Bulkley,  at  Coneord,  besides  many 
,^ous  pt.'oplc  who  were  ready  Id  follow  their  persecuted  minie- 
ftr*  lo  the  ends  of  the  earth,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  gospel  in  its 
paiily.  All  necessary  arrangements  having  been  made,  on  the 
^Olli  of  August,  l(i35,  —  a  day  to  be  remembered  by  the  people 
4f  ibis  common wealib,  —  the  company  embarked  on  board  the 
.jhip  Defense,  of  London,  eommnniled  by  Captain  Thomas  Bos- 
Mcb,  and  commenced  their  voyage,  "having  lasted  much  of 
.God's  mercy  in  Eugland,  and  lamenting  the  losa  of  our  native 
',  when  we  took  our  last  view  of  iL" 
Mr.  Shepard,  it  has  been  said,  embarked  in  disguise,  and  under 

ht  assumed  name  of  his  brother,  "  John  Shepard,  husbandman." 

^nte  aulhoriiy  for  this  slalcment  is  found  in  a  list  of  passengers 
who  came  over  in  the  Defense,  taken  from  a  manuscript  vol- 
,  discovered  in  the  Augmenlation  Office,  so  called,  by  Mr. 
J«viig(%  in  ihc  year  1842,  which  contains  the  names  of  persons 
permitted  to  embark  at  t)ie  port  of  London,  between  Christmu«, 
^634,  and  (be  same  period  in  tlie  following  year.  In  this  list 
re  have,  amuug  oiliers,  the  nanu-a  of  John  Slicpard,  liui^band- 
Ua,  aged  tbiny-sis.  Margaret  Shepard,  itiirty-one,  and  Tliotnas 
bejMXrd,  three  nionths.  Samuel  Sbepard  apgiears  as  a  so 
f  Roger  llarlakenden.  Noiiher  Mr.  Wilson  nor  Mr.  Joi] 
lentioned.  though  they  were  certainly  on  board ;  but  Sarah 
d  thir^-four,  with  her  children,  i^  named  among  the 


passengers.*  It  is  probable  tlmt  Mr.  Shepaiil  did  embark  un- 
der the  name  of  liis  brother  John,  ihoagh,  as  he  was  bom  in 
1605,  he  could  have  been  but  lliirty  yenrs  of  age  nhen  he  came 
to  this  counlry,  and  Margaret  seems  to  have  been  somewhat 
younger.  We  know  thai  great  efforts  were  at  that  time  made  to 
prevent  the  ministers  from  leaving  England.  As  narlj  as  1629, 
Mr.  Higginson,  writing  from  Salem,  exhorted  his  friends  to  come 
quickly,  for  if  they  lingered  too  long,  "  the  passages  of  Jordan, 
through  the  malice  of  Satan,  might  be  stopped."  Cotton,  Hook- 
er, and  Stone,  who  came  in  1633,  wiih  great  difficulty  eluded  the 
vigilance  of  the  pursuivants,  and  escaped  from  the  country. 
Richard  Mather  was  obliged  to  conceal  himself  until  the  vessel 
was  at  sea.  In  April,  l<i37,  a  proclamation  was  issued  "to 
restrain  the  disorderly  transportation  of  his  majesty's  subjects  to 
the  colonies  without  leave,"  commanding  that  "  no  license 
should  be  given  them  without  a  certificate  that  they  had  taken 
/the  oaths  of  supremacy  and  allegiance,  and  had  conformed  to  the 
discipline  of  the  church  of  England."  t  The  danger,  tlicrefore, 
to  which  Mr-  Shepard,  in  common  with  others,  was  exposed,  was 
great  enough  to  render  concealment  desirable  and  necessary. 
How  far  any  one  is  justifiable  in  assuming  the  name  of  another 
for  the  purpose  of  avoiding  danger,  or  of  doing  a  good  work,  is 
H  question  of  cusuistry  which  every  reader  will  decide  accord- 
ing to  bis  light ;  but  all  candid  persons  who  become  familiar  with 
the  character  of  Shepard,  and  with  the  circumstances  in  which 
be  was  placed,  must  he  convinced  that  he  intended  to  act  consci- 
entiously, and  that  if  he  did  not,  as  he  confessed,  belong  to  that 
class  of  martyrs  to  whom  God  gave  "a  spirit  of  courage  and 
willingness  to  glorify  him  by  sufferings  at  home,"  he  was  at 
^'  least  a  sincere  lover  of  truth,  and  foremost  among  those  holy 
men  who  were  prepared  lo  "go  to  a  wilderness,  where  they 
could  forecast  nothing  but  care  and  temptation,"  for  the  sake  of 
enjoying  Christ    in   his  ordinances,   and   of    propagating    the 


•  Masi,  Hiat.  Coll.  xxriii-  SBB.  369.  >73. 

t  See  Chronicle*  of  MBESochoielta,  pp.  SSO,  4SS>  n< 


BQEPAKD. 


I^o^pi:!  in  lis  divine  punly.  If  anj  tliink  tliat  be  erred  in  not 
Iwldly  facing  the  terrors  of  ihe  Star  Chamber,  "  let  him  that  i 
witboul  ein  among  them  cast  tlie  first  stone  at  him." 
Tlie  ship  in  which  they  embarkeil  was  old,  rotien,  and  alto- 
gether unfit  for  such  a.  voyage.  In  the  first  storm  they  encoun- 
tered, she  sprung  a  le&k,  which  exposed  ihetn  In  imminent  peril ; 
and  they  were  on  the  point  of  returning  to  port,  when,  wiih 
much  diSiculty,  they  succeeded  in  repairing  the  daioagc.  They 
iiad  a  filoruiy  and  rough  passage.  The  infant  Thomas,  who,  at 
^leir  embarkalioD,  was  so  feeble  that  the  parents  and  friends 
feared  be  could  not  live  uatil  they  reached  New  England,  was 
fBucb  benedied  by  the  sea ;  but  the  mother,  worn  out  by  constant 
aiatching,  hardship,  and  exposure,  at  last  look  a  cold,  terminating 
|n  consamption,  which,  in  a  few  months,  consigned  her  to  an  ^ 
^arly  grave.  Among  other  incidents  of  the  voyage,  Mrs.  Shcp- 
trd'i  miraculous  preservation  from  "  imminent  and  apparent 
h  "  ought  not  to  be  passed  over  in  silence.  In  one  of  the 
violent  storms  which  they  experienced,  she  was,  by  the  sudden 
jBTching  of  the  ship,  thrown  head  foremost,  with  the  child  in  her 
frms,  directly  toward  a  lurgs  iron  bolt;  and  "being  ready  to 
':|iiU,  she  f«lt  herself  plucked  back  by  »he  knew  not  what," 
iwbereby  botJi  sh«  and  the  child  escaped  all  injury  —  a  wonder-  ^ 
ffi  inlerpMttioD,  which  Ur.  Shepard  and  others  who  witnessed  it 
Ktid  lucribv  to  nothing  but  "  the  angels  of  God,  who  are  min- 
JMeriag  eipirils  for  the  heirs  of  life." 

On  the  3d  dfty  of  October.  1635,  af\er  fil^y-four  wearisome  days 
a  the  sea,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  land  where  they  hoped  < 
D  find  KSt  tmlh  for  the  body  and  the  soul ;  and  on  the  third  they 
|Ktded  safely  at  Doslon,  ''  with  rejoicing  in  God  afler  a  longi^oine 
greyage,"  and  amidst  the  hearty  congratulations  of  numerous 
fHenda.  whose  houses  were  hospitably  thrown  open  for  iheir  «c- 
■  tioo.  Mr.  Shepard  and  Ids  family  were  kindly  pro- 
^ridcd  for  at  ihe  house  of  Jlr^^Coiyiiiglgn^  then  treasurer  of  the 
■Dlony,  where  they  remained  until  aficr  the  Sabbath  ;  and  on  | 
|fond*y,  October  5,  ihey  removed  to  NewUiwn,  which  was  to  be 
r  Annre  field  of  labor  and  their  quiet  home. 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS    SHEi 


CHAPTER    VUI. 


Sketch  of  the  mrij-  hiitoiy  of  NcirtoWD.  —  Organiialion  of  Ehe  Eccond 
church  in  Newlown.  —  Death  of  Mra.  Sl»p«ri  —  SiKkncBS  of  Thomu, 
—  AnliDomiiui  conlroTcrsj.  —  Mr.  Shepsrd's  position  nnd  itiBuenre  in  this 
controversy,  —  Krst  Synod  ia  Newtown.  —  Mr.  Hooker's  objections. — 
Beiult  of  Synod. 

Newtowt*,  afterward  called  Cambridge,  wtis  selected  aa  the 
site  of  a  town  which  llie  settlers  intended  to  fortify,  and  moke 
the  metropolis  of  the  Maasachu setts  coloay.  In  the  spring  of 
the  year  1G31,  Winthrop,  who  had  the  year  preceding  beeti 
chosen  governor,  ciiine  to  this  place,  and  set  np  the  frame  of  a 
hooac  upon  the  spot  where  he  flrsl  pitched  his  tenl.  The  depu- 
ty governor,  Dudley,  completed  a  house  for  himself,  and  removed 
bis  family,  with  the  expectation  that  this  was  to  be  the  seat  of 
government.  The  town  was  laid  out  near  Charles  River,  in 
squares,  the  streets  intersecting  each  other  at  right  angles.  It 
soon  became  evident,  however,  that  Boston  was  to  be  the  chief 
place  of  commerce ;  and  the  neighboring  Indians,  having  ceased 
theii'  hostility,  and  made  overtures  of  perpetual  friendship  with 
the  coionisis.  Governor  Winthrop  removed  the  frame  of  his 
house  to  Boston,  and  the  scheme  of  a  fortified  town  here  was 
abandoned. 

Bui,  though  the  design  of  making  Newtown  the  capital  of  the 
colony  was  given  up,  It  remained  still  under  the  especial  care 
and  direction  of  the  government.  The  annual  election  of  gov- 
ernor and  magistrates  wai),  for  some  lime,  held  here ;  and,  in 
1632,  the  General  Court  appropriated  sixty  pounds,  lo  be  raised 
by  the  several  plantations,  toward  erecting  a  palisade  about  it. 
The  first  settlers  of  the  town,  though  few  in  number,  were,  gen- 
erally, in  good  circumstances  ;  and  ibey  soon  received  a  valuable 
accession  by  the  arrival  of  u  company,  recently  from  England, 
who  liad  commenced  a  settlement  at  Braintree,  but  who,  by 

ection  of  the  General  Court,  removed  to  Newtowti  in  August, 


LtFE   or  TBOUAS   SHKPAKD.  CVU 

1632.  Winthrop  calls  them  "  Mr.  Hooker's  company,"  from 
which  it  may  be  iDrerred  that  ibey.were  from  thai  part  of  the 
county  of  E^sex  where  Mr.  Hooker  was  seiiled.  Mr.  Hooker, 
however,  did  not  come  over  with  thiit  company,  and  the  people 
of  Newtown  had  tu<  yet  no  niini^ier ;  but  tbey  erected  a  meeting 
bouse,  preparatory  to  ibe  settlement  of  the  ministry  and  the 
ordinance  of  tite  got-pel  among  tbem,  feeling,  as  one  of  tbe  early 
falbent  reiDArks,  tliat  a  country,  however  beautiful  and  prosper- 
itliout  a  gospel  ministry,  ia  "  like  a  blacksmith  without 
his  fire.'^ 

filr.  Hooker,  in  nunpaqy  with  Mr.  Cotlon  and  Mr.  Stone, 

arrived  in  the  month  of  September.  1633,  and  on  the  lUh  of 

October  following,  be,  with  Mr.   Stone  for  his   assislani,  was     /"M 

orduined  over  the  people  of  Newtown,  majiy  of  whom  had  satVX^  M 

under  his  ministry  in  England,  and  after  their  settlement  here 

bad  never  censed  to  importune  him  to  come  and  take  the  pastoral 

charge  of  them.     In  May,  1634,  the  people  of  Newtown,  being, 

■bey  alleged,   straitened   for    room,  and    having    obtained 

kare   of   the    Gieneral  Cout^   to  look  out  a  place,  either  for 

extension  or  removal,  sent  several  of  their  number  to  Agawam 

stid  Meniiaack,  to  find,  if  possible,  a  more  suitable  location  for 

growing  community.     Not  succeeding  to  their  satisfaction 

bi  this  attempt,  they  pe^Iioned  for  leave  to  remove  to  the  banks 

«f  the  Cooneciicnt  River,  where  they  were  certain  of  linding 

•mple  territory  and  a  fruitful  soil.     The  subject  was  earnestly 

in  tbe  General  Court  for  several  days.     The  principal 

'■rgumenia  id  favor  of  granting  the    petition  were  —  that  the 

|ieople,  without  more  land  for  their  cattle,  could  not  mainlnin 

liter,  or  receive  any  more  of  their  friends  who  might 

ifce  disposed  to  come  and  assist  them ;  that,  if  the  fertile  coutilry 

ipon  the  Connecticut  were  not  speedily  occupied  by  a  colony 

MasMichuKtts,  tbe  Dutch  or  the  English  might  take  pos- 

wton  of  it,  which  would  be  vi-ry  undesiriible ;  that  the  towns 

the  colony  were  located  too  neitr  each  other ;  and  finally,  tliat 

sy  were  strongly  inclined,  and,  in  fact,  had  made  up  lliclr  minds, 

go  —  a  rciisoii  os  concltisive,    perhaps,  aa  sny  other.     In 


Crm  LIFE   OF  THOMAa 

addilion  lo  llie  nvowed  grounds  of  their  desire  to  remove  so 
far  from  the  parent  colony,  some  have  ventured  to  ndd  one 
which  they  never  avowed,  and  probably  never  thought  of,  name- 
ly, thai  Mr.  Hooker's  light  would  shine  more  brightly,  and  be 
more  conspicuous,  if  it  were  farther  from  the  golden  candlestick 
of  the  church  in  Boston. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  variety  of  reasons  were  urged  againut 
their  removal.  It  was  said  that,  being  united  in  one  body  with 
the  Massachusetts  colony,  and  being  bound  by  oath  to  seek  the 
..good  of  the  commonwealth,  it  would  be  wrong,  in  point  of  con- 
Tecience,  lo  allow  them  to  separate  from  their  brelhren  ;  that  the 
oolony  was  weak,  and  con  Ion  y  n  dan  r  of  being  attacked  by 
its  enemies,  and  therefore  cou  d  n  aff  rd  to  spare  m  large  a 
number  of  their  most  influ  n   a         z  lliat  the  departure  of 

Mr.  Hooker  would  not  o  y  d  w  awa  many  from  the  colony, 
hut  divert  to  a  distant  pa  h     xmntry  friends  who  would 

otherwise  settle  here  j  tha  by  mo  n^  they  would  be  exposed 
lo  great  danger,  from  the  Dutch,  —  who  claimed  the  Connecticut 
country,  and  had  already  built  a  fort  there,  —  from  the  Indians, 
and  from  the  English  government,  which  would  not  permit  them 
to  settle  without  a  patent  in  any  place  to  which  the  king  laid 
claim;  that  they  might  be  accommodated  at  home  by  enlarge- 
ment from  other  towns,  or  by  removal  to  any  other  place  within 
the  patent ;  and  finally,  that  it  would  be  the  removal  of  a  can- 
dlestick out  of  its  place,  which  was  a  calamity  by  all  means  to 
he  avoided  if  possible. 

■When  the  question  was  taken,  the  governor  and  two  assiat- 
--'  ants  voted  in  the  affirmative ;  the  deputy  governor,  together 
with  the  other  assistants  and  all  the  deputies,  in  the  negative. 
At  this  stage  of  the  bnsineaa,  a  controversy  arose  between  the 
Court  of  Magistrates  and  the  deputies  respecting  the  legal 
effect  of  this  vote,  not  necessary  to  he  described  here.  It  is 
sufficient  lo  say  that  the  proceedings  of  the  court  were  brought 
lo  n  stand  ;  and  so  great,  in  their  opinion,  was  the  importance 
of  the  question  respecting  "  the  negative  voice,"  which  divided 
them,  that  a  day  of  fiuiting  and  prayer  for  divine  direction  was 


LIFE    OP    THOKAS    SHEPASD.  QIX 

•et  »put  by  public  authority.  Accordiagly,  the  I81I1  da;  of 
September  was  obstsrvcd  by  all  the  churches  in  the  colony.  On 
the  24th  of  the  saiue  month,  the  court  again  met  at  Nentown. 
Mr.  Hooker  was  requested  to  delirer  a  discourse  upon  the 
i[>ortaiit  occasion ;  but  he  declining  on  the  ground  that  his  per- 
Mnal  iateresl  in  the  question  rendered  him  unfit  for  this  service, 
the  delicate  and  difficult  task  was,  by  desire  of  the  whole  court, 
{lerfomted  by  Mr.  Cotton.  He  cbose  for  his  text  Haggai  ii.  4, 
from  which  he  took  occasion  to  descritte  the  nature,  or  the 
Urength,  as  he  termed  it,  of  the  magistracy,  of  the  miobtry, 
and  of  the  people.  The  strength  of  the  magistracy  he  asseric^ 
to  be  their  authority ;  of  the  ministry,  their  purity ;  and  of  ihel 
people,  their  liberty ;  showing  that  each  of  these  had  a  negative  1 
voice  in  relation  lo  the  other,  and  yet  the  right  of  ultimate 
ts  in  the  whole  body  of  the  people ;  answering  all 
and  exhorting  the  (icople  to  maintain  their  liber- 
ist  all  unjust  and  violent  attempts  to  take  them  away. 
iscourg«  gave  great  satisfaction  to  all  parties-  The 
court  resumed  its  discussions  in  a  belter  and  more  forbearing 
■pirit ;  and  although  the  deputies  were  not  satisBed  that  the  neg- 
ative voice  should  be  lefi.  to  the  magistrates,  yet  the  subject  was 
by  common  consent  dropped  tor  that  lime.  The  re«ult  was.  that 
the  people  of  Newtown,  seeing  how  unwilling  their  brethren 

iluU  ihcy  should  remove  to  Connecticut,  came  forward  and 
■ceepted  such  lands  as  liad  been  olfered  for  their  accommodation, 
fcy  BtMion  and  Wnlertown.  This  arrangement,  however,  was 
MX   loog  aatisfaciory.     The   people  of   Newtown,  having   fixed 

eyes  and  their  minds  upon  the  fine  country  upon  tlie  Gm- 
amicm,  soon  began  lo  revive  the  project  of  removal,  and  many 
in  thfl  neighboring  towns  being  desirous  of  joining  them  in  this 
riiiiTprisr,  the  General  Court  at  length  gave  ihem  leave  10  re- 
move whither  they  would,  on  condition  of  their  remaining  under 
ibc  juriiMliclion  of  Massachusetts. 

The  place  selected  by  the  agents  of  Newtown  was  called  by 
the  tmiivM  Suckiaug.  where,  toward  the  close  of  the  year  lli35, 
S  jtvtlation  WU  cainmenced  by  a  few  of  their  number,  ihe  graM 

T9Ut>  j 


ex  LIFE    OF    TUOHA.3    3HEfAR7. 

bodj  of  the  people,  with  their  miDiaters,  inleading  to  follow  ihem 
duriog  the  ensuing  year.  Accordingly,  eurly  in  the  Bummer 
of  1636,  Messrs.  Hooker  and  Stone,  with  about  one  hundred 
persons,  composing  the  whole,  or  very  nearly  the  whole  of  the 
congregatioD,  left  Newtown,  aod  traveled  through  a  pathless 
wilderness  to  the  place  which  they  had  chosen  as  their  inherit- 
ance. They  had  no  guide  but  their  compass.  Like  the  patri- 
archs, they  drove  before  iliem  their  flocks  and  herds,  and  fed 
wpon  the  milk  of  (heir  kine  by  the  way.  After  a  long  and 
tedious  journey,  ihey  reached  Suckiaug,  on  the  Connecticut,  and 
laid  the  foundation  of  the  city  of  Hartford. 

Upon  the  removal  of  Mr.  Hooker's  congregation,  Mr.  Shepard 
and  those  who  accompanied  him,  about  sixty  in  all,  purchased 
the  houses  thus  left  vacant,  to  dwell  in  until  they  should  find  a 
more  suitable  place  for  a  permanent  settlement  The  majority, 
however,  soon  became  desirous  of  remaining  at  Newtown,  and 
were  unwilling  to  remove  farther,  "  partly  because  of  the  fellow- 
ship of  the  churches ;  partly  because  they  thought  their  lives 
were  short,  and  removals  to  new  plantations  full  of  troubles ; 
partly  because  they  found  suflictent  for  themselves  and  com- 
pany." They  therefore  resolved  to  remain,  and  without  further 
delay  to  organize  themselves  into  a  church  for  the  enjoyment  of 
those  gospel  privileges  which  they  hod  suffered  so  much  to  secure. 
The  necessary  arrangements  were  accordingly  made,  and  on  the 
1st  day  of  February,  1636,  corresponding  to  February  11,  new 
style,  a  public  assembly  was  convened,  and  a  church,  the  first 
permanent  one  in  Cambridge,  and  the  eleventh  in  Massachu- 
setts, was  duly  organized.  The  following  account  of  this  solemn 
transaction,  given  by  an  eye  witness,  is  exceedingly  interesting 
for  the  light  which  it  throws  upon  tbe  manner  of  constituting 
churclteg  in  the   time  of  our   fathers. 

"  Mr.  Sbepard,  a  godly  minister  come  lately  out  of  England, 
and  divers  other  good  Christians,  intending  to  raise  a  church 
body,  came  and  acquainted  the  magistrates  therewith,  who  gave 
their  approbuiion.  They  also  sent  to  all  the  neighboring 
oburches  for  their  elders  to  give  their  asuatance,  at  a  certtun 


C    OF    TUOiLAS 


Vda/.  at  Newtown,  when  tbey  should  constitute  their  body.     Ac- 
cordingly, nt   thia  day,  there   met   a  great  assembly,  where  ths 
proeeeiling  wa8  ai*  fulloweth:  Mr-    Shepard  anil  two  others  — 
who  were  after  to  be    chosen  lo  office  —  snt  together    in  the 
>    dderii*  seat.     Then  the  elder  of  them  began  with  prayer.     Ailep 
thii  Mr.  Sbepitrd  prayed  with  deep  cont'essioit  of  «in,  c 
exercised  out  of  £pb.  v.  27,  '  That  he  might  present  it 
•elf  a  glorious  church,'  etc.,  and  also  opened  the  cause  of  their 
meeting.     Then  the  elder  desired  lo  know  of  the  churches  as- 
■embled  what  number  wore  needful  to   make   a   church,  and 
■fcow  they  ought  to  proceed  in  this  action.     Whereupon  some  of 
the  ancient  ministers,  conferring  shortly  logetlier,  gave  answer  : 
That  the  Scripture  did  not  set  down  any  certain  rule  for  the 
'pnraber.     Three,  ihey  thought,  were  too  few,  because  by  Matt, 
appeal   waa    allowed   from    three ;    but   that    seven 
atught  be  a  fit  number.  ^  And,  for  their  proceeding,  they  advised 
It  such  as  were  to  join  should  noake  confession  of  (heir  faith, 
d  declare  what  work  of  grace  the  Lord  had  wrought  in  them  ; 
which  accordingly  tliey  did,  Sir.  Shepard  first,  then  four  others, 
a  the  elder,  and  one  who  was  to  be  dencon,  —  who  had  also 
'prayed,  —  and  another  member.     Then  the  covenant  was  read, 
i  they  all  gave  a  solemn  as^nt  to  it.     Then  the  elder  desired 
•f  the  cliurclie^,  that,  if  they  did  npprove  thcra  to  be  a  diurch, 
d  give  them  the  right  hand  of  fellowship.     Whereupon 
,  upon  short  speech  with  some  others  near  him,  in 
B  of  their  churches,  gave  his  hand  to  the  elder,  with  a 
1  of  their  assent,  and  desired  the  peace  of  the  l/>rd 
!  with  them.     Then  Mr.  Shepard  made  an  exhorta' 
rest  of  his  body,  about  tlie  nature  of  their  covenant, 
I  and  lo  stand  firm  to  it,  and  commended  them  to  the  Lord  in  a 
I  BUMt  heavenly  prayer.     Then  the  elder  told  the  assembly  that 
ktttoy  were  intended  to  choose  Mr.  Shepard  for  their  pastor,  (by 
I  Ae  tuune  of  the  brother  who  had  exercised,)  and  desired   tho 
,  that,  if   they    had  any   thing  to  except  against  him, 
r  would    impart  it    to  them  before    the   day  of  ordination. 
1  be  gave   the  churches   thanks    for  their   aasiataiice,  and 


V 


dii  LIFE   OF  THOUAS    SQt^FAICl). 

BO  left  tbem  U>  the  Lord."  "  Mr.  Shepnrd's  onlinaiion,  or 
ralher  instullalion.  took  pitrce  soon  after,  bai  itie  exact  dale  of  it 
13  not  known.  It  was  probablj  deferred,  as  Malher  Euggeats, 
on  ncrount  of  the  lateness  of  the  bour,  and  for  the  purpose 
of  liaving  ample  lime  for  the  performance  of  those  solem- 
niliea  which  they  thought  suitalile  lo  such  an  occusion. 
,  Mr.  Shepard'a  ministry  in  Newtown  commenced  under  the 
V  pressure  of  heavy  domestic  affliction.  Within  a  fortnight  after 
tlie  organization  of  the  church,  his  wife  Margaret,  who«e 
>  health  had  been  for  eome  time  rapidly  failing,  was  tahen  from 
'  him  by  death.  It  had  been  her  great  desire  lo  eee  tier  hus- 
band in  a  place  of  safety  among  God's  people,  and  lo  leuve 
her  child  under  the  pure  ordinances  of  the  gospel.  Her  desire 
was  granted.  Having  been  received  into  ihe  feliowship  of  the 
church,  having  given  up  her  dear  child  in  the  ordinance  of 
baptism,  and  having  witnessed  the  hopeful  beginning  of  the 
vork  for  which  she  liad  sacrificed  all  the  comtbrts  of  life,  and 
even  life  itself,  she  was  enabled  to  say,  with  Simeon  of  old, 
"  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine 
eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation."  The  precious  ordinances  for 
which  she  had  pined,  amidst  llie  privations  and  dangers  of  their 
wandering  life,  were  the  means  of  greatly  elieering  her  under 
the  wasting  power  of  disease,  and  of  tilling  her  soul  with  a  sense 
of  God's  love,  which  continued  nnlil  ihe  last  breath.  Nothing 
can  be  more  beautiful  or  touching  than  Mr.  Shepard's  reference 
to  the  baptism  of  his  son,  and  to  the  early  death  of  his  "  incom- 
parably loving,"  amiable,  and  pious  wife  —  a  jiassage  which 
'  many  a  baptized  child  may  read  with  (ears.  "  On  ibe  7th  of 
^  February,  God  gave  thee  the  ordinance  of  baptism,  whereby  God 
b  become  thy  God,  and  is  beforehand  with  thee,  that  whenever 
thou  shall  return  to  God,  he  will  undoubtedly  receive  thee :  this 
is  a  most  high  and  happy  privilege,  and  therefore  bless  God  for 
it.  And  now,  after  this  had  been  done,  thy  dt?ar  mother  died  in 
the  Lord,  departing  out  of  tbis  world  lo  another,  who  did  lose 
her  life  by  being  careful  to  preserve  thiue  ;  for  in  the  ship  thou 

•  Winihrop'*  Joamal,  J,  179, 180. 


wert  so  fet^bli:  ond  rrowanl  both  in  tliE?  da)'  and  night,  that 
beretiy  she  losl  her  Htrenglh,  aiic)  at  last  her  hfe.  She  hmh  mode 
mnnj  a  prayer  and  ahed  many  ii  tear  for  thee  ;  and  thia 
faaih  been  ott  her  request,  Ihnt  if  ihe  Lord  did  not  intend  to  glori- 
fy himself  by  thee,  that  he  would  cut  thee  oS  by  death  rather 

I  to  live  to  dishonor  him  by  sin.  And  therefore  know  it,  that 
if  Ihou  ehalt  turn  rebel  against  God,  and  forsake  him,  and  care 

for  the  knowledge  of  him,  nor  believe  in  tun  Son,  the  Lord 
vill  make  all  tliese  mercies  woes  ;  and  all  thy  mother's  prayers, 
tears,  and  death,  to  be  a  swifl  witness  against  thee  at  the  great 

The  child  to  whom  this  affeciing  ikppeal  was  made  woa  after- 
ward brought  very  low  by  a  humor  whiih  filled  his  mouib,  lips, 
«nd  eheeks  with  blisters,  so  that  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  take 
mlfidcnt  noun'sbmeiit  to  sustain  life.  When  the  humor  left  his 
nouth,  it  seized  upon  his  eyes,  and  in  a  short  time  he  became 
»  blind,  '■  with  pearls  upon  both  eyes,  and  a  white  film,  inso- 
nuoh  that  it  was  a  dreadful  sight  unto  all  the  beholders  of  him,  and 
very  pitiful."  None  but  a  father  ean  realize  the  distress  which^ 
Ur.  Shepard  felt  at  tlio  prospet^t  tliat  his  only  aon  was  to  be 
blind  ttirough  the  remainder  of  his  life.  Out  he  was  mercifully 
■pMred  this  severe  ailiiction.  When  he  had  became  eonvinued 
lliBl  he  must  have  "  a  blind  child  to  be  a  constant  sorrow  to  bira 
till  his  death,"  and  was  made  contented  to  **  bear  the  indignation 
•f  llie  I»rd,  because  he  had  sinned,"  resolving  now  to  "  feur 
nor  grieve  no  more,  but  to  be  thankful,  nay,  to  love  the 
Lord,  suddenly  and  strangely,  by  the  use  of  a  poor  weak 
neans,  namely,  the  oil  of  white  paper,"  the  child  was  re- 
Morvd  to  tight  again,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  father,  who  ; ' 
regmnled  ttic  cure  as  a  gracious  answer  to  liis  earnest  prayers^^ 
The  umuner  in  which  Mr.  Shepard  used  this  event  lo  awaken 
the  gratitude  of  bis  child,  when,  in  atler  years,  he  should  learn 
bow  woudeifnlly  he  had  been  preserved  from  one  of  the  great- 
est  leupunil   calamjtieti,  is   worthy   of  remembrance.     "  Now, 


L 


*  Inlrodanloo  W  AaWblogiaph]'. 


consider,  lay  son,  and  remember  to  lift  up  thine  eyes  to  heaven, 
to  God,  in  everlasting  praises  of  bira,  and  dependence  upon  him  ; 
and  take  heed  thou  dost  not  make  thine  eyes  windows  of  lust, 
bul  give  thine  eyes,  nay,  thy  heart,  and  whole  soul,  and  body,  lo 
him  that  hath  been  so  careful  of  tbec  when  thou  couldst  not  care 
for  thyself." 

These  domestic  afflictions  were  soon  followed  by  trials  of 
another  sort,  which,  to  a  minister  of  Christ  so  deeply  interested 
in  the  prosperity  of  the  church  as  Mr.  Shepard  was,  were, 
perhaps,  more  difficult  lo  be  borne  with  patience,  and  called  for 
a  larger  measure  of  grace.  He  found  that  the  people  of  God 
are  exposed  to  "  perils  in  the  wilderness,"  as  well  as  in  the 
crowded  thoroughfares  of  the  world,  and  that  Christ  may 
be  as  deeply  wounded  in  the  house  of  his  friends  as  among 
the  armies  of  the  aliens,  Tlie  church  at  Newiown  had  been 
organized  but  a  short  time,  and  bad  but  just  bej^n  to  enjoy 
the  liberty  and  the  rest  for  which  so  many  sacrhices  had  been 
made,  when  the  peace  of  all  the  churches  in  the  colony  was  Tio- 
lently  disturbed  by  the  opinions  and  practices  of  the  Aniino- 
miana,  which  were  first  protnulgiiied  in  ihia  part  of  the  world 
by  Mra.  Hutchinson.  As  Mr.  Shepard  bore  a  distinguished 
pari  in  that  controversy,  and  exerted  no  small  influence  in  bring- 
ing it  to  A  triumphant  conclusion,  a  few  words  respecting  ita 
origin  and  effects  may  here  be  expected. 

Mr.  HuichinsotL,  who  had  been  an  intimate  friend  and  a  great 
admirer  of  Mr.  Collon  in  Englund.came  to  Boston,  with  hU  wife,  in 
tlie  autumn  of  l<i3-l.  Mrs.  Hutchioison  was  a  woman  of  amB.>^cu- 
line  understanding,  nnd  of  fiery  zeal  in  religion.  Mr.  Cotton,  wliom 
she  held  in  the  highest  estimation  and  respect,  said  of  her,  at  an 
early  period  of  her  residence  here,  that  "  she  was  well  beloved," 
and  that  "  all  the  i'ailhful  embraced  her  conference,  and  blessed 
God  tor  her  fruitful  discourses" — a  coramendation  which,  if  the 
ever  doi^rved,  she  soon  forfeited,  by  her  gross  heiiuies  in  doc- 
trine and  iu  practice.  At  Ilonton  she  was  treated  witli  great  re- 
spect, not  only  by  Mr.  Cotton,  but  by  other  distinguished  persona, 
{  whom  wa»  Mr.  Vane,  who,  ia  1630,  was  chosen  goveruor 


LIFI:    UP    THOMAS    SHEPARD.  CXT 

«f  ihe  colony,  in  the  room  of  Winlhrop.  It  was  natural  that  (be 
high  consideration  in  which  she  va^  held  bj  the  leading  men  in 
the  church  and  stale  should  awaken  her  vanity,  an<l  give  her  great 

ence  with  the  people.  In  imitation  of  the  brethren  of  the 
cburch  of  Etoslon,  who  held  weekly  meetings  for  religious  con- 
ftirence,  she  soon  establi^hetl  a  meeting  of  women  at  her  house, 
in  obedience,  as  tihe  pretended,  to  the  apoeiolical  precept  that 
the  aged  women  should  be  teachers  of  good  things;"  and 
specially  that  ibey  should  "  teach  the  young  women  to  be 
•ober."     The  novelty  of  this  proceeding  among  the  Puritans, 

,  in  obedience  to  another  apostolical  injunction,  had  never 
•uffered  "  a  woman  to  speak  in  the  church,"  together  with  the 
reputation  of  the  innovator,  soon  collected  on  audience  of  sixty 
or  eighty  women  at  her  house  every  week,  to  hear  her  prayers, 
her  eihortationB,  and  her  exptanaliona  —  seldom,  probably,  cor- 
Rcl  — of  Mr.  Cotton's  sermons. 

In  the^e  meetings,  held  professedly  for  Ihe  purpose  of  promote 
ing  the  edificslion  of  the  younger  women,  but  designed  to  diffuse 
a  new  hght  among  the  men  also,  Bfrs.  Hutchinson  was  not  long 
■atisfied  to  be  ihc  humble  espoaitor  of  Mr.  Cotton's  doctrines, 
bat  soon  ventured  to  broach  some  opinions  of  her  own,  which, 
bwever.  she  pretended  to  conKrm  by  an  unfair  and  fraudulent 
we  of  Hr.  Coiian's  authority.  The  fundamental  position  which 
the  assumed,  and  maintained  with  a  iierce  enlbusiitsm,  was,  tliat 

Christian  should  not  look  to  any  Christian  graces,  or  to  any     ,  j 
conditional  promises  made  lo  faith  or  canciilication,  ad  evidence  '^  M 
flf  God's  special  grace  and  love  toward  him,  —  this  being  a  way 
<f  wofk>,_- —  but,  without  the  appearance  of  any  grace,  failh,  holi- 
~      ,  or  change  in  himself,  must  rest  upon  an  absolute  promise 
■Mde  in  an  immediate  revelation  to  his  soul.     In  connection  with 
ihia  doctrine,  and  as  the  legitimate  results  of  it,  she  taught  that  > 
Ae  Holy  Ghost  dwells  personally  in  a  justilied  person  ;  that  the   I 
camnumd  to  work  out  our  salvation  wiih  fear  and  trembling  is   | 
addressed  lo  none  but  sut-h  its  are  under  the  covenant  of  works  ; 

pprsoniil  holiness  Ls  nol  to  be  regarded  as  n  sign  of  a  justi- 
^ei  tUIe ;  tbiU  there  u  do  such  thing  as  inherent  righteousneu  j 


thai  imraeiiiaW  rovelalions  respecting  fiilurc  evenlifare  to  be  ex- 
pected by  believers,  and  should  be  received  as  equally  aulhorila- 
tive  and  infallible  with  tlie  Scriptures  ;  together  with  many  other 
absurd  and  foolish  notions,  which  il  would  seem  that  none  but  per- 
BOBS  extremely  ignorant,  or  partially  insane,  could  possibly  believe. 

That  Mrs.  Hutchinson  received  these  opinions  from  Mr.  Cot- 
Ion,  as  she  and  lier  followers  pretemled,  is  not  credible.  It 
is  true  that  Air,  Cotton  at  one  time  entertained  a  too  favor- 
able opinion  of  the  piety  and  talents  of  this  enthusiastic  in- 
novator, and  for  a  while  bore  no  decided  testimony  against  tlie 
errors  that  were  dividinj;  and  distracting  the  cburchX^  The  con- 
sequence was,  that  he  was  claimed  by  both  parties  in  Ibis  contro- 
versy ;  the  Aniinomians  declaring  that  their  doctrines  were  legit- 
imate inferences  from  Lis  preaching,  and  had  his  sanction  ;  the 
Orthodox,  on  the  other  hand,  affirming  that  he  adhered  to  the 
common  faith,  and  disavowed  their  heretical  sentiments.  This 
Elale  of  the  public  mind  called  for  an  open  and  explicit  declara- 
tion of  his  sentiments  which,  as  soon  as  lie  fully  understood  ibe 
use  mad  ft  a  1  n  y  by  the  Aniinomians,  he  made,  to  the 
sntisfne  f  h     b      h  en,  and  to  the  dismay  and  disromfiture 

of  the  1  re  cs  Ha  once,  as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  became 
the  obje  t  h  h  d  and  reproaches  of  the  party  which  he 
had  seemed  —  a  d  1  seemed  —  to  favor.  They  called  him  a 
coward,  nho  dared  not  avow  his  real  principles ;  a  double-mind- 
ed man,  who  taughl  one  thing  in  the  pulpit,  and  another  in  pri- 
vato  conference ;  a  blind  guide,  who  had  loi^t  all  insight  into  the 
epirit  of  the  gospel ;  and  so  bitter,  and  at  the  same  time  so  vul- 
gar, was  the  hatred  with  which  they  persecuted  the  good  man, 
that  one  of  the  parly  sent  him  a  pound  of  candles,  with  the  im- 
pudent intimation  tliat  he  was  in  "  great  need  of  light." 

tt  has  been  sometimes  said,  in  later  times,  that  this  Antino- 
mian  controversy  was  a  strife,  a  mere  jargon  of  words,  while 
the  parties  were  really  of  one  mind  respecting  jueiilieiiiion  and 
sanctification.  Bui  a  enreful  eKaminalion  ,wiU  show  that  it  was 
'  a  strife  between  two  ditfcrent  and  opposite  gospels,  and  exhibited 
totally  different  grounds  of  hope  la  Mimers.     The  Autinomiaiu 


LITE   OF  TaOUA.a    SUEPAKD.  CXVll 

of  the  worst  and  most  dangcroas  sort.  By  their 
oT  advancing  frp*;  B""***!  ^"7^  Shepard,  tbey  denied  and  \ 
destroyed  all  evidence  of  inherent  grace  in  us ;  by  crying  up  ' 
Chridt,  they  desLroyed  the  me  "f  *'"iVi  to  apply  to  him  ;  by  ad- 
ling  the  spirit  and  revelations  by  the  ^picit,  they  destroyed  ur 
weakened  the  revelation  by  the  Soigtiyies ;  by  depending  on 
Clirii't's  righteousness  and  justification  without  the  works  of  the 
htw,  they  difsCrnyeii  the  use  of  the  lnw.apd  made  it  no  rule  of  life  to 
S  Christian ;  by  imagining  an  evidence  by  justification,  they  de- 
Mniyed  all  evidence  by  effectual  vocation  and  sanctificalion.v' 
Their  opinions  were  "  mere  fig  leaves  to  cover  some  disicmpera 
■Oi]  lusts  lurking  in  men's  hearts  ; "  and  hence  it  was  that  after  they 
ngnrded  themselves  as  once  sealed,  and  consequently  in  Christ, 
nd  had  received  (he  witness,  ihey  never  doubted,  though  they 
Jell  into  the  foulest  and  most  scandalous  sins ;  and  to  renew  their 
t«peutiuice  they  s[>oke  of,  as  a  sign  of  great  weakness.* 

Absurd,  licentious,  and  destructive  us   these   opinions  were, 
tbey  spread  among  the  people  with  astonishing  rapidity ;  and 
wherever  ihey  took  root  they  produced  the  bitter  fruits  of  aliena- 
tion, haired,  and  slander-     The  converts  to  the  new  opinions  were, 
Shepard  justly  called  them,  "  the  scourges  of  the  land,  and 
ihe  mo«t  subtle  enemies  of  the  power  of  godliness."     By  their 
eat  and  rect^ived  truths  citme  to  be  darkened, 
Gud's   name  to  be  Uasphiimed,  ibe  church's  glory  diminished,  ^ 
nsny  Hodly  persons  grieved,  many  wrclcTies  hardened,  deceiving 
1  being  deceived,  growing  worse   and  worse."     They  labonid 
deitruy  ihc  reputation  of  all   thci>o  ministers  who  held  th«^ 
received  docrrines,  stigmatizing  ihem  as  legal  preach-  / 
ivaru  undtfr  a  cnvcniuit   of    works,  who  never  knew^ 
CitTWt  Ihenuelve.s  and  who  could   not  be    the    iujiruroenis  of    , 
tringing  men  into  the  light  and  liberty  of  the  gospel.     They  en-    I 
ignorant  men  and  women  to  become  preachers,  andV' 
j^plauded  their  ministrations  as  more  effectual  than  that  of  any 
•f  the  "  black  coats  "  —  as  they  contemptuously  styled  the  re^ 


■  New  EnglMwI)  LamniUiioiu  for  Old  Engtuul'i  Emm,  p. i. 


ulnr  ministers  —  wlio  hftd  been  at  what  they  facetiously  called 
Ibo  "  ninniversily."  They  opposed  the  marching  of  the  troops 
that  had  t«eii  raised  lo  assist  the  people  of  Connecticut  against 
llie  PequixU,  upon  the  ground  that  the  olticei¥  and  soldiers  were 
loo  inuc:h  under  a  covenant  of  works. 

In  an  incredibly  short  time,  this  fanatical  spirit  divided  not  only 
tbe  church  of  Boston,  but  a  large  number  of  the  churcbes  of 
.  Moasaehu setts  and  Plymouth.  '  The  people  became  disaffected 

J  toward  the  ministers,  and  prejudiced  against  all  their  public  and 
pnvale  instruction.  Many  who  had  been  converted,  apparently 
by  the  instrumentality  of  these  ministers,  in  England,  —  who 
had  followed  them  into  this  wilderness  to  sit  under  their  minis- 
trations, —  who  bod  been,  like  the  Galutians,  ready  to  pluck  out 
their  own  eyes,  and  give  them  to  their  pastors,  —  now  forsook 
their  parish  churches,  and  greedily  listened  lo  tbe  rafings  of  in- 
sanity or  ignorance.  Some  of  the  leading  men  in  the  colony, 
among  whom  were  Vane,  Coddinglon,  and  others,  took  sides 
with  these  disturbers  of  the  peace.  FamiUes,  as  well  as  churches, 
were  divided  and  alienated.     It  became  common,  says  Winthrop, 

Ni  to  distinguish  men  by  being  under  a  covenant  of  grace,  or  a 
covenant  of  works,  as  in  other  countries,  between  Protestants 
and  Papists.  The  mischief  spread  into  alt  associations,  civil  as 
welt  as  religious,  "  insomuch  that  the  greater  part  of  [lus  new 
transported  people  stood  stilE,  many  of  them  gazing  one  upon 
another,  like  sheep  let  loose  to  feed  on  fresh  pasture,  being 
stopped  and  startled  in  their  course  by  a  kennel  of  devouring 
wolves.  The  weaker  sort  wavered  much,  and  such  as  were 
grown  Christians  hardly  durst  discover  tbe  truth  tbey  held  one 
unto  another.  The  fogs  of  error  increasing,  the  bright  beams 
of  tbe,  glorious  gospel  of  our  Lord  Christ,  in  the  moutb  of  his 
minbters,  could  not  be  discerned  through  the  thick  mists  by 
many;  and  that  sweet,  refreshing  warmth, that  was  formerly  felt 
from  the  Spirit's  influence,  was  now  turned,  in  these  errorists,  to 
a  hot  inflammation  of  their  own  conceited  revelations,  ulcerating, 
and  bringing  little  less  than  frenzy  or  madness  to  the  patient."  " 

^^M  *  Wonder- working  ProTideace,  p.  100. 


In  the  midst  of  all  this  exdiement  and  confusion,  Mr.  Shep- 
[  ard  continued  steadfast  in  the  faith  ;  and  through  his  rigilaiKX, 
I  fiuthfulness,  and  discriminaling  miDi^tr^,  ihe  church  of  Newtown  '"^ 

s  preserved  from  the  least  taint  of  this  heresy.     He  had  been 

fntnewhat  familiar  with  the  doctrines  and  spirit  of  the  Antino- 

[  sians  in  his  younger  daya,  in  Eugland,  and   he  had   sufficient 

"light   to  Me    through  the^e  devices  of  men's  head:),"    which 

I   ata.nj  of  his  brethren,  able  as  ihey  were,  wanted ;  and  though   it 

[  wad  a  sad  disappointment  to  him  (o  be  called  ao  »oon  into  the 

I  heat  of  controversy,  and  "  a  most  uncomfortable  tiine  to  live  in 

I  eontcDlion"  with  those  who  professed  to  be  disciples  of  Christ, 

jti  it  wsd  a  duty  he  could  not  tibun  ;  and  he  had  the  satisfaction 

and  the  honor  of  being  a  principal  instrument  in  bringing  this 

f  anhappy  exciteincnt  to  an  end, 

Od<!  of  llie  means  by  which  he  destroyed  the  influence  of  the 
i  beretics  in  hia  own  congregation  was  Ihe  delivery  of  that  admj- 
I  fable  ctiurae  of  sermona  upon  the  parable  of  the  ten  virgins,'^ 
which,  after  his  death,  were  published  by  his  son  Thomas,  a.' 
■isted  by  bis  successor,  Mr.  Mitchel.  They  were  commenced  i 
(1636.  when  the  leaven  of  Familism.  or  Antinomianism,  was  mos 
powerf\iIly  at  work  among  the  |>eople,  and  finished  in  1640,  when  Ij  I 
it  was  mostly  purged  away ;  and  were  designed  to  refute  the  im- 
pudent heresy  of  that  time,  and  establish  the  assaulted  Irulh. 
Tbey  constitute  the  largest,  and,  in  some  respects,  ihe  most  valu- 
able of  his  works,  and  arc  eminently  adapted  to  expose  all  false 
religion,  while  real  Christians  will  find  in  them  abundant  instruc- 
tion and  unoouragemenl.  In  ibe  celebrated  "  Treatise  on  the  Re- 
ligious Affections,"  President  Kdwards  makes  a  freer  use  of  this 
book  than  of  any  other.  His  whole  work  is  pervaded  by  its 
■pirit,  and  he  acknowledges,  l>y  nearly  n  hundred  quotations,  his 
obligations  to  Mr.  Shepard  for  some  of  his  profoundeal  thoughta, 
tie  render^  another  important  service  to  the  colony  during  that 
Btonny  seiuon  by  his  election  sermon. 

By  the  help  of  the  pious  Johnson,  wo  obtain  a  glimpse  of  Mr. 
Sfa«p«nl  in  the  pulfnt,  as  well  ns  of  his  mode  of  handling  this 
knoUy  mbject.     In  tlie  course  of  litis  "dismal  year  of  1636," 


bSX  I-IFE   OF    THUS 

a  pious  man,  who,  like  miin^  others,  had  left  his  native  land  to 
enjoy  llie  liberty  of  the  gospel  here,  arrived  in  New  England, 
expecting  to  find  the  wilderness  blossoming  as  the  rose  under 
the  labors  of  the  able  mmislers  who  bad  preceded  him;  but,  lo 
his  amazemeot,  he  found  the  whole  country  in  a  slate  of  con-  ■ 
fusion,  and  was  at  once  addressed  in  a  new  theological  language 
which  was  entirely  tiu intelligible  to  him,  "  Take  here,"  saya 
Johnson,  in  his  rude,  quaint  cnanner,  referring  to  this  man,  "  the 
sorrowful  complaint  of  a  poor  soul  in  miss  of  its  expectniion  at 
landing,  who,  being  encountered  with  some  of  these  errorists  at 
his  first  landing,  when  he  s&w  that  good  old  way  of  Christ  re- 
jected by  them,  and  ho  could  not  skill  in  that  new  light  which 
was  the  common  theme  of  every  man's  discourse,  he  betook 
him  lo  a  nnrrow  Itidiau  path,  in  which  his  serioua  meditations 
Boon  led  him  where  none  but  senseless  trees  and  echoing  rocks 
make  answer  lo  his  heart-easing  moan.  '  0,'  quoth  he, '  where 
am  I  become  ?  Is  this  the  place  where  those  reverend  preach- 
ers are  fled,  that  Christ  was  pleased  to  make  use  of  to  rouse  up 
his  rich  graces  in  many  n  drooping  soul?  Here  have  I  mvt 
with  some  that  tell  me  I  must  take  a  naked  Christ.  O,  woe 
b  me ;  if  Christ  be  naked  lo  me,  wherewith  shall  I  be  cloihed  ? 
But  melhinks  1  most  wonder  they  tell  me  of  casting  off  all 
godly  sorrow  for  sin,  as  unbeseeming  a  soul  that  is  united  to 
Christ  by  faith.  And  there  was  a  little  nimble-tongue  J  woman 
among  ihem,  who  said  she  could  bring  me  acquninled  with  one 
of  her  own  sex  lliat  would  show  roe  a  way,  it'  I  could  attain  it, 
even  revelations,  full  of  such  ravishing  joy,  that  I  should  never 
have  cause  to  be  sorry  for  sin,  so  long  as  I  lire ;  and  as  for 
her  part,  she  had  attained  it  already,  "  A  company  of  legal 
professors,"  quoth  she,  "  lie  poring  on  the  law  which  Christ  hiiili 
abolished,  and  when  you  break  it,  then  you  break  your  joy;  and 
now  no  way  will  serve  your  turn  but  a  deep  sorrow."  These, 
and  divers  other  expressions,  intimate  unio  me  that  here  I  sliall 
find  little  increase  in  the  graces  of  Christ,  through  (he  licni'ing 
of  his  word  preached,  and  other  of  his  blessed  ordinances.  O, 
cunning  dcTil,  the  Lord  Christ  rebuke  thee,   that,  under  the 


LIFK   OF  THOMAS   SnEPARD.  CXXl 

■pretense  of  a  free  and  tvmple  gospel,  shuts  oul  the  »gul  from  par- 
'ilaking  with  the  difine  nature  of  ChrUt,  in  llmt  mystical  union  of 
*ius  blessed  Spirit,  creating  and  continuing  his  graces  in  the  Boul. 
'■Jly  dear  Clirist,  it  was  iby  work  that  moved  me  hither  to  come, 
hoping  to  find  thy  powerful  presence  in  the  preaching  of  the 
word,  although  administered  by  sorry  men,  subject  to  like  infirm- 
Itieii  with  others  of  God's  people ;  and  also  by  the  glass  of  the 
Ikw,  to  have  my  sitiful,  corrupt  nature  discovered  daily  more  and 
BK>rG,  and  my  utuir  inability  lo  any  thing  that  is  guod,  magnilying 
hereby  the  free  grace  of  Christ,  who,  of  his  good  will  and  pleas* 
ore.  worketli  in  us  to  will  and  lo  do,  working  all  our  works  in  us 
■nd  fur  us.  But  here  they  tell  me  of  a  naked  Christ.  What  ia 
the  whole  life  of  a  Christian,  but,  through  the  power  of  Christ, 
la  diij  10  sin,  and  to  hre  to  holini^ss  and  righteousness,  and  to  that 
eod  to  be  iliLgeni  in  the  use  of  nieAus?' 

"At  the  uttering  ofthia  word,  he  starts  up  from  the  green  bed 
«f  hia  complaint,  with  resolution  lo  hear  some  one  of  these  able 
luniftters  preach,  whom  report  hod  so  higlily  valued,  before  his 
will  should  make  choice  of  any  one  principle.  Then,  turning  his 
.  free  lo  the  sun,  he  steered  liis  course  toward  the  next  town ;  and, 
after  some  small  travel,  he  came  lo  a  large  plain.  No  sooner 
wm  he  entered  thereon,  but  hearing  the  sound  of  a  drum,  hu 
ms  directed  toward  it  by  a  broad,  beaten  way.  Following  ihb 
road,  he  demands  of  the  next  ni-an  he  met  what  the  signal  of 
tiie  drum  meant.  The  reply  was  made,  they  had  as  yol  no  bell 
to  call  men  to  meeting,  and  therefore  made  use  of  a  drum. 
'  Who  is  it,' quoth  he,  'lectures  at  this  town?'  The  other  re- 
plies, ■  I  see  yon  are  a  strunger,  new  come  over,  seeing  you 
ktuiw  not  the  man :  it  is  one  Sir.  Shepard.'  '  Verily,'  quoth  the 
Wher,  'you  have  hit  the  right.  I  am  new  come  over,  indeed,  and 
have  been  told,  since  1  came,  that  most  of  your  ministers  are  legal 
pn^achcrs ;  only,  if  I  mistake  not,  they  told  me  this  man  preached  / 
k  finer  eovetmnt  of  works  tliim  the  othei^.  But,  however,  I  •/ 
ahttll  make  what  haste  I  can  to  hear  hun.  Fare  yon  well.' 
Tben,  luutening  thither,  he  crowduih  through  the  thickest,  wher« 
having  suid  while  the  glass  wns  turned  up  twice,  the  mao  wu 

VOU  L  t 


ll 


i 


cxsii  Lti^t  or  TaouAS  sHk:i-Auu. 

metamorphosed,  and  was  Ttun  to  bang  down  the  head  often,  Icat 
his  watery  eyes  shuuld  bhib  abroad  the  secret  conjunction  of  hia 
affections,  his  heart  crying  loud  to  his  Lord's  echoing  answer,  to 
his  blessed  Spirit,  that  caused  the  speech  of  a  poor,  weak, 
pale-complexioned  man  to  take  such  impression  in  his  soul  at 
present,  by  applying  the  word  so  aptly,  as  if  he  had  been  hia 
privy  councilor;  clearing  Christ's  work  of  grace  in  the  soul  from 
all  those  false  doctrines  which  the  erroneous  parly  hud  affright' 
ed  him  withaJ ;  and  he  resolves,  the  Lord  willing,  to  live  and 
die  with  the  ministers  of  New  EnglanJ,  whom  he  now  saw  the 
Lord  had  not  only  made  zealous  to  stand  for  the  truth  of  bis 
discipline,  but  also  for  the  doctrine,  and  not  to  give  ground  one 

The  Antinomian  excitement  reached  its  greatest  height  to- 
ward the  close  of  the  year  163G  and  the  beginning  of  1637. 
Though  defeated  at  the  annual  election  in  their  attempt  to  con- 
tinue Vane  —  the  head  of  their  party  —  in  the  office  of  governor, 
the  AntinomiariB  were  powerful  enough  to  menace  the  safety  of 
the  stale  as  well  as  of  the  churches.  They  were  every  where 
bold,  impudent,  and  restless.  Wlien  they  were  complained  of  in 
the  civil  courts  for  misdemeanors,  or  summoned  before  the  church 
for  question  or  censure,  they  had  many  respectable  and  influen- 
tial persons  to  defend  ihem,  and  lo  protest  against  any  sentence, 
civil  or  ecclesiastical,  which  might  be  passed  against  them  ;  and 
when  they  were  condemned,  there  were  enough  to  raise  a 
mutiny  agmnst  the  government  on  their  behalf.  Great  efforts 
were  made,  both  by  magislriites  and  ministers,  to  heal  this  plague 
in  tlie  church.  Innumerable  sermons  were  preached  against  the 
erroneous  doctrines.  Conferences  were  held  with  the  leaders  of 
the  fanatics,  sometimes  privately  before  the  elders,  sometimes 
publicly  before  the  whole  congregaljon,  where  they  had  liberty 
to  say  all  that  could  be  said  in  defense  of  their  sentiments,  and 
were  heard  with  great  patience.  Every  thing  which  individual 
influence  could  do  was  done  to  root  out  these  pestilent  opinions, 
and  to  restore  pence  to  the  distracted  colony. 

^^H  *  Wonder-working:  Providtnce,  pp.  100-104. 


LIFE    OF  THOMAS   BUKPARD.  CXXIU 

At  length,  when  all  hope  of  removing  this  evil  hy  the  usual 
meuifl  was  given  up,  tlie  GenernI  Cuiirt,  in  cousultation  with  the 
ministers,  determined  lo  call  a  s_vnod  of  all  Ihe  churches  in  Kew 
England,  for  the  purpose  uf  settling  this  controversj,  agreeably 
lo  the  csaniple  of  the  primitive  church,  referred  to  in  the  Acta 
of  (he  Apostles.  Three  things  were  judged  expedient  as  a 
neoeMarj  preparation  for  ihie  great  measure  ;  a  general  fast,  to 
aeek  the  divine  presence  with  the  synod  ;  a  collection  of  all  the 
erroneous  opinions,  amounting  to  above  eighty,  whicli  it  might 
be  Qe<:essary  i«  discuss ;  and  u  friendly  conference  with  Mr. 
Cotton,  respecting  any  espressions  of  his  wliich  might  have 
seemed  to  give  countenance  to  the  errors  that  were  troubling 
the   country. 

These  preparatory  steps  having  been  taken,  the  proposed 
■yood  was  convened  at  Newtown,  August  30,  1637.  That  Mr. 
Shepard  was  a  prominent  agent  in  procuring  this  synod,  and  a 
very  influential  member  of   it,  is  evident  from  many  circum- 

^- I  particularly  from  the  fact  that  Mr.  Hooker,  in  April  fre- 

■ddressed  to  him  a  letter  dissuading  him  from  using  bis 
ita  behalf.  ■  "  Your  general  synod,"  says  Mr.  Hooker, 
I  em  not  yet  see  either  how  reasonable  or  how  salutary  it  will 
be  for  your  turn,  for  the  settling  and  establishing  the  truth  in 
that  honorable  way  as  were  to  be  desired.  My  ground  U  this : 
they  will  be  chief  agents  in  the  synod  who  are  chief  parlies 
in  ihe  cause  ;  and  for  them  only  who  are  prejudiced  in  Ihe  con- 
troversy to  pass  sentence  against  cause  or  person  —  how  im- 
proper !  how  unprolilBble  I  My  present  tlioughts  run  thus : 
That  such  conclusions  which  are  most  extra,  most  erroneous,  and 
eroM  to  the  common  current,  send  them  over  to  the  godly 
lewned  lo  judge  in  our  own  country,  and  return  their  apprehen- 
wons.  1  suppose  the  issue  will  be  more  uncontrollable.  If  any 
•hould  suggest  this  was  the  way  to  make  the  clamor  too  great 
and  loud,  and  to  bring  a  prejudice  upon  the  plantations,  I  should 
•oon  answer.  There  is  nothing  done  in  comers  here  but  it  is  openly 
Ibtu^  related ;  and  in  such  notorious  cases,  which  can  not  be  kept 
•mtM*  ibe  moU  phun  and  naked  rehuion  ever  causcth  the  truth. 


CXXiV  LIFB    OF  THOMAS   SQEPABD. 

most  to  ap[M-Hr,  and  prevenia  nil  Kfoundlesaand  needless  jealous- 
ies, nliereb;  men  arc  apt  to  make  tilings  mort;  and  nor^  than 
they  are."  •  We  hnve  no  letter  of  Mr.  Shcpard  in  reply  to 
this ;  but  it  can  not  lie  douLted  iliat  he  did  answer  these  argu- 
ments against  the  propriety  of^  determining  the  disputed  points 
by  a  synod,  and  it  was  his  answer,  probably,  that  ehanged  Mr. 
Hooker'a  iLoughts  in  relation  to  this  matter.  However  that 
may  be,  it  is  certain  that  iLe  Connecticut  pastor  aClerward 
took  a  different  view  of  the  subject,  and  judged  it  expedient 
to  attend  the  synod,  and  to  lake  a  leading  part  in  all  ite  pro- 
ceedings. 

The  synod,  consisting  of  all  the  ministers  and  messengers  of 
the  New  Enghind  churches,  together  with  a  few  who  had  recent- 
ly arrived,  but  were  yet  unsellled,  was  organised  by  the  choice 
of  Mr.  Hooker  and  Mr.  Buckley,  joint  moderators.  The  first 
session  was  opened  by  Mr.  Shepard  with  one  of  his  "  heavenly 
prayers."  After  the  organization  of  Ihe  synod,  the  erroneous 
opinions  which  had  been  spread  through  the  country,  some  of 
them,  as  Cotton  declared,  blasphemous,  some  incongruous,  and 
all  unsafe,  together  with  the  texts  of  Scripture  which  had  been 
perverted  in  support  of  them,  and  certain  "  unsavory  spceclies," 
ibat  had  been  used  in  tbe  heal  of  dispute,  were  read  and  fully 
diacuseed,  and  finally  unanimously  condemned.  The  synod 
continued  in  session  about  a  month,  and  all  the  Antinominns, 
who  desired  it,  had  liberty  to  lie  present,  and  freedom  of  speech, 
restrained  only  by  the  laws  of  order  and  decency.  There  was, 
says  Shepard,  "  a  most  wonderful  presence  of  Christ's  spirit  in 
that  ftssenibly,"  and  the  general  result  of  Us  deliberations  was, 
that,  through  the  grace  and  power  of  Chriel,  the  pemicioui 
errors  which  had  welt  nigh  brought  the  church  to  desolation 
"  were  discovered,  —  the  defenders  of  them  convinced  and 
ashamed,  —  the  truth  eslablished, — and  the  consciences  of  the 
Bainis  settled."  The  public  condemnation  of  these  errors,  and 
the  testimony  of  the  synod   (gainst  tliem,  were  subscribed  by 

•  HuchlnBon'^a  HiaL  Mom.  vuI.  i. 


LIFE   or  THOUAS   SBEFARD,  CXXV 

Bearl^  all  the  ministers  and  messengers  present;  but  some, 
>IDong  whom  was  Mr.  CoUon,  while  thej'  reprobated  ihe  leading 
doctrines  of  llic  Antinomjiuis,  anil  all  tlie  monstrous  inferences 
ft^m  Ihem,  as  sincerely  and  as  deeply  as  any  members  of  the 
■ynod,  declined  subscribing  the  K«»ull,  because  subscription  was 
A  word  of  ill  omen  among  the  Puritans.  The  doings  of  the  synod, 
sustained  by  the  zealous  cooperation  of  the  ministers  and  the 
uninfected  portion  of  the  churches,  finally  resulted  in  the  restora- 
tion of  sound  docti'ine  and  of  ^^ood  order  among  the  people. 
All  the  cliiirehes  accepted  the  result,  and  generally  with  entire 
vnontmity,  with  the  exception  of  the  church  in  Boston.  Mr. 
Vheelwright  and  Sirs.  Hutchinson,  the  leaders  of  the  Autino- 

I  parly,  together  with  a  few  of  tlieir  followers,  after  civil 
and  ecclesiastical  process,  were  excommunicated,  banished,  or  at 
least  forced  from  the  colony,  (Mr.  Vane  baring  previously 
returned  to  England,)  not  for  their  errors  of  opinion  alone,  but 
account  of  the  disorganizing  and  destructive  influence  which 
:  public  miuutenance  of  those  errors  exerted  upon  the  peace\ 
and  welfare  of  the  community.  Many  of  the  ignorant  and  en- 
thusiastic people,  who   had  been  misled  by  the  appearance  of 

icnt  piety  in  their  new  guides,  when  those  who  had  se- 
duced them  into  error  were  gone,  returned  penitently  to  the 
cburcbtH  and  the  ministry  which  they  had  abandoned,  and  were 
rec«iTcd  by  their  brethren  into  renewed  fellowship,  with  joy  and 
gratitude  to  God  for  bis  healing  mercy ;  and  Mr.  Wlieelwrigfit 
bimaelf,  afler  seven  years  of  banishment,  publicly  confessed  and 
renounced  his  errors,  and  was  restored  to  liis  former  standing  in 
church  and  stale,  which  he  enjoyed  for  nearly  forty  years,  with 
the  reputation  of  a  humble  and  worthy  minbtcr  of  Christ.  Thu^ 
lenniiuU«d  the  tirst  great  temptation  of  our  fathers  in  the  wilder- 

—  an  eveitl  which,  through  the  ignorance  of  some,  and  the 
perrene  spiril  of  others,  has  been. frequently  spoken  of  to  the 

oacfa,  not  of  the  guilty  tempK^rs,  but  of  tho^e  wise  and  holy 
men,  who,  by  ibe  word  of  Uod.  and  prayer,  cSeciually  resisted 
the  evil,  and  preserved  the  churches  from  one  of  the  wor^l  and 
BKMt  deatrooive  forms  of  errors.     "  And  so  the  Lord,"  uja 


LIFE   Of   THOUAS    SHEFARD. 


I 


Shepard,  "  wiihin  one  ypsr.  wrought  a  great  changp 
haTiDg  delivered  [lie  CQUnlrj'  from  war  witb  the  Ii 
Familists,  who  rose  and  fell  together." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Mr.  Shepnnl'i  vigjlanrc  witli  rpgpcvt  to  the  manner  of  organiung-  ChnrrhM. 

—  Gatherii));  of  (lie  church  at  Darchegtcr.  —  Letter  to  Richard  MathiT. — 

—  Intereic  in  education.  —  Cammcni'eDieDt  of  Harvard  College.  —  Why 
the  collei^  wa»  placed  at  Newtown.  —  DiSlcultj  with  Mr.  Ealnn. — 
Mamea  Jouuna  Hooker.  —  Dcmti  of  Mr.  Harlofccndon.  —  Mr.  Shepard's 
work  inicrrnpted  by  aicknesB. —  Letter  of  Mr.  Bulklej.  —  How  employed 

While  Mr.  Shepard  was  thus  watchful  over  the  interests  of  his 
own  flock,  and  zealous  in  the  piihllc  vindication  of  the  true  doc- 
trines of  grace  against  the  abomiunbte  errors  of  the  Aotinomiaiis, 
his  advice  and  assistance  were  often  sought  in  the  organization  of 
new  churches  in  the  i^olonj  ;  nnd  in  such  cn^s,  as  a  wise  master 
builder,  he  was  careful  to  see  that  the  materials  with  which  he  built 
were  of  the  right  kind,  and  that  thej  were  securely  placed  upon 
V  the  "  foundation  of  the  aposllea  and  prophets,  Jesus  Christ  himself 
being  the  chief  comer  slonc."  One  instance  will  serve  as  a 
specimen  of  his  wisdom  anil  fidelity  in  this  respect.  In  the  early 
part  of  this  "  dismal  year  of  1 C3G,"  while  a  multitude  of  "  chntfy 
hypocrites  "  and  ignorant  fanatics  were  thronging  into  the  conn- 
try,  and  many  of  the  churches  were  suffering  under  the  deadly 
influence  of  unsound  members,  he  was  called  to  attend  a  council 
A,  for  the  organisation  of  the  second  church  in  Dorchester,  a  great 
part,  if  not  the  whole,  of  the  lirst  having  removed  to  Counecticul. 

The  confession  of  faith,  laid  before  the  council  by  Mr.  Mather,_ 
was  found  to  be  orlhodox  and  satinfactory ;  hut  when  the  per- 
sons who  wci'e  to  constitute  the  church  came  to  relate  iheir 
experience,  the  elders  refused  to  organize  them,  on  the  ground 
[  that  ihey  were  "  not  meet,  at  present,  lo  be  the  foundation  of  a 
church."    Many  of  them  built  iheir  hope  upon  "  dreams,  and 


fc^^rf-j^ 


,r , 


EFASD.  CXZTii 

tBTiiihes  of  the  spirit  by  fits  ; "  or  upon  mere  "  eiiernal  reronna' 
tion ; "  or  "  apon  their  duties  and  performances ; "  whereio  Uiey  dig- 
covered  " three, epeeial  errors;  1.  That  ihej  had  nol  come  tn^ 
ktte  sin  because  it  vtn  tillhy,  but  odIj  left  it  because  it  was  hurt- 
fbl.  2.  That  they  liad  never  truly  closed  with  Christ,  or,  rather, , 
Christ  with  them,  but  liad  made  use  of  him  only  to  help  the  im- 
perfection of  their  satictilicatiaii  and  duiies,  and  hod  not  made 
him  their  wisdom,  right eousoess,  ^anctiiieation,  and  redemption. 
8.  That  they  expected  to  believe  by  some  power  of  their  own,  \ 

inly  and  wholly  from  Clirtsl."  •  Mr.  She pard,  whose 
experience  of  God's  work  of  grac«  in  the  heart  was  widely  dif- 
ferent from  this,  deeming  their  eridencea  unscripiural  and  delu- 
rive,  successfully  opposed  their  organizaElon  into  a  ehurch  at 
that  time.  After  his  return  home,  he  wrote  the  following  letter 
to  Hr.  Slather,  vindicating  the  course  which  he  pursued  t 
council,  and  exhibiting  his  views  respecting  the  materials  oSy^ 
which  churches  should  be  formed.  It  ie  a  letter  which  ii 
without  deep  significance  and  interest  at  the  present  day,  when 
the  same  errors  of  eiperience  are  common,  and  many  churches 
»Te  B  far  greater  proportion  of  wood.  luiy.  and  stubble,  than  of 
gold  and  precious  stones,  in  their  comjiosition. 

"Dkar  Brotiikr: 

*■  As  it  was  a  sad  thing  to  us  to  defer  the  uniting  of  your  people 
together,  so  il  would  add  nIHiction  to  my  sorrow,  if  that  yourself, 
(whora  the  Lord  hath  abundantly  qualilied  and  fitted  for  him- 
self.) and  churcli,  and  people  should  take  to  heart  too  much  so 
aolemn  a  demur  and  stop  to  the  |>roi'eedingB  of  those  that  were 
•o  be  anitt^d  (u  you.  For  what  would  this  be  but  a  privy  quar 
leliug  with  the  wise  providenee  of  our  God,  who  knows  wha 
|ihjsic  is  best  to  be  given,  and  a  grieving  indeed  for  that  good 
hand  of  God  in  which  we  ought  abundantly  to  rejoice;  for  I  am 
eonfidcnt  of  it,  that  there  is  nothing  in  this  cup  so  bitter,  but,  by 
waiting  a  while,  yourself  and  people  will  find  such  sweetness  i. 

•  Wioihrop'i  Joarosl,  I-  IM. 


CXXTIU  LIFE    OF   THOMAS   SHEPARU. 

the  bottom  and  conclusion  of  il,  as  shall  make  you  and  ihem 
a  double  ameuds. 

"  David  had  a  greal  desire  to  build  the  lemple,  and  he  was 
content  with  the  sad  message  of  the  prophet,  he  musi  not  do  ii, 
his  8on  should.  It  was  quite  honor  enough  unto  him  to  proviJe 
stuff  for  it.  I  persuade  myself  the  Lord  intends  to  do  niorf  for 
you,  and  by  you,  in  the  place  where  the  Lord  hatb  set  you,  and 
that  he  will  honor  you  wiih  a  more  glorious  service  than  that  of 
Solomon ;  to  build  him  a  temple,  not  of  slon^,  but  of  sninis, 
elect  and  precious.  Yet  you  know  how  many  years  Solomon 
waited  before  the  temple  camK  to  be  creeled. 

"  All  the  stones  of  it  were  liewn  and  hammered  out  in  Mount 
Lebanon,  so  that  no  ax  or  hammer  was  beard  knocking  .while 
the  lemple  was  a-building.  (I  Kings  vi.  7.)  O,  let  not  n  little 
waiting  be  sad  or  grievous  to  you,  while  your  people  are  preparing 
themselves,  or  the  Lord,  rather,  is  preparing  them,  lo  be  built 
on  the  foundation  stone ;  that  when  you  meet  again  together, 
there  may  not  be  any  hammer  heard,  any  doubt  made,  any  pause 
occasioned,  by  any  neglect  of  them  in  not  seeking  to  gather  iheir 
evidences  better,  botit  to  quiet  their  own  soub  before  the  Lord, 
and  lo  satisfy  the  consciences  of  other  men. 

"  As  for  myself,  I  was  very  lolh  to  speak,  but  I  thought  — 
and  I  have  found  it  since  —  that  I  should  neither  be  accounted 
faithful  lo  ihe  church  that  sent  me,  neither  should  I  manifest  ihe 
tenderness  of  the  good  of  your  people,  if  I  had  not  spoken  what 
I  did.  I  did  confess,  and  do  confess  still,  that  although  there 
were  divers  weaknesses  in  most,  which  I  did  and  do  willingly, 
with  a  spirit  of  love,  cover  aiid  pass  by.  as  knowing  what  I  am 
myself,  yet  there  were  three  of  thera,  chiefly,  that  I  was  not  sat- 
isfied scarce  in  any  measure  wiih  their  profession  of  faith.  Not 
but  that  I  do  believe  upon  your  own  trial  of  them  —  which,  I 
persuade  myself,  will  not  be  slighty  in  laying  a  foundation  —  but 
that  they  might  have  grace,  yet  because  we  came  not  here  to  find 
^aciouB  hearts,  but  to  see  ihem  too.  It  is  not  faith,  hut  a  visible 
faith,  that  must  make  a  visible  church,  and  be  the  foundation  of 
visible  communion  ;  which  faith.  I  say,  because  my  weakness 


LIFt   OF   IBOMAS   SBEPAItD.  CXXIX 

could  not  we  in  some  of  Uiein  by  their  profession,  I  therefore 
ap>ke  what  I  did  with  respect  to  yourself,  and  tenderness  also 
o  them,  that  so  (hey  might  either  express  ihemselves  more  fully 
or  satisfaction  of  the  churches,  —  whieh  I  did  chiefly  desire,  — 
ir  if  there  were  not  time  for  this,  that  they  might  defer  till  another 
time,  which  you  see  was  ibe  general  vote  of  all  the  churches. 
e  I  have  thought,  and  do  think,  hath  this  threefold 
good  wTi^iped  u|)  in  it. 

"  I.  That  if  your  people,  then  doubtful  to  us,  be  indeed  sin- 
cere, this  might  make  them  more  humble,  and  make  them  search 
themselves  more  narrowly,  and  make  them  cast  away  all 
their  blurred  evidences,  and  get  fairer  and  show  better,  and  m 
find  more  peace,  and  keep  more  close  to  God  than  ever  before, 
on  the  contrary,  if  they  be  unsound,  ihat  this  might  be  a 
a  to  discover  them ;  for  either  you  will  find  them  proud, 
passionate,  and  discontented  at  this,  —  which  I  beheve  is  far  from 
all  of  ihem,  — or  else  you  will  see  that  this  doth  little  good,  and 
worki  little  upon  them ;  which  unto  my  own  self  would  he  a 
alirewd  evidence  of  little  or  no  grace,  if  the  majesty  and  pres- 
ence of  God  in  so  many  churches  so  ready  to  receive  you  should 
work  no  more  awe,  nor  ^ad  laying  to  heart  Boch  a  sentence  ' 
s  this  hath  been.  For  beliere  it,  brother,  we  have  been  gener- 
ally mistaken  in  most  men  and  in  great  professors :  these  times 
i  lattdy  fJiown,  a:iJ  this  place  hath  dit^covere<l,  more  false 
liearts  than  ever  we  saw  before.  And  it  will  be  your  comfort  lo 
be  very  wary  and  very  sharp  in  looking  to  the  hearts  and  spirltal 
of  those  you  sign  yourself  unto,  esjiecially  at  first,  lest  you  meet 
with  iboM  nd  breaches  which  other  churches  have  had,  and  all  by 
It  of  ore  and  skill  to  pick  forth  fit  stones  for  so  glorious  a 
feandaiioB  u  poateriiy  U>  come  may  build  upon  and  bless  the 
Lord. 

**  2.  By  this  means  others  will  not  be  too  forward  to  set  upon 
Ikb  work,  who,  after  sad  trial,  will  be  found  utterly  unfit  for  it. 
For  it  U  not  a  work  for  all  professors,  nor  for  all  godly  men,  to 
la;  a  fbundalion  for  a  church,  for  many  godly  men  may  hare  some 
a  that  may  make  for  the  rain  of  the  building,  Ihero- 


L 


QXX\  LIFE    UF    TRO.UAe    SHEPARU. 

fore  not  fit  for  a  foundntion ;  manj  godly  men  are  weuk  and 
Biniple.  nnd  unable  lo  dignero,  and  so  may  easilj  rei^eive  in  such 
aa  may  aflerWard  ruio  them,  hence  unlit  lo  lay  a  foundation.  Not 
that  I  judge  thus  of  your  people.  I  dare  not  think  so;  but  if 
those  that  be  fit  have  been  thus  stopped  in  their  way.  how  will  this 
make  others  to  tremble  and  fear  in  attempting  this  work,  less 
able  than  yourselves  I 

"  3.  By  this  means,  I  believe  and  hope  that  the  communion 
of  Bainis  will  be  set  at  a  higher  price,  when  it  is  seen  that  it 
is  not  an  honor  that  the  Lord  will  always  put  on,  nor  bestow  and 
give  away  unto  his  own  people.  I  do  therefore  entreat  you  in 
the  Lord,  that  you  would  not  hang  down  your  head,  but  rejoice 
at  this  good  providence  of  the  Lord,  which  will  abound  so  much 
to  his  praise  and  your  future  peace.  Neither  let  it  discourage 
you,  nor  any  of  your  brethren,  to  go  on  in  the  work  for  after 
times ;  but  having  looked  over  their  own  evidences  a  little  belter, 
and  humbled  their  souls  for  this,  and  thirsting  the  more  af\er 
the  Lord  in  bis  temple  and  ordinances,  while  with  David  they 
are  deprived  for  a  season  of  them,  that  hereafter  you  would 
come  forth  again,  (it  may  be  some  of  your  vii^ins  have  been 
sleeping,  and  this  may  awaken  tliem,)  with  your  lamps  trimmed, 
your  lamps  burning,  your  wedding  gormcnis  on  to  meet  the  bride- 
groom. And  if  others  will  fall  and  sleep  again,  and  not  get 
their  oil  when  they  have  hod  this  warning,  what  do  they  do  but 
discover  themselves  to  be  but  foolish  ones,  who,  (hough  they 
knock  hereafter,  and  cry.  Lord,  I»rd,  it  may  be  Christ  nor  his 
spouse  will  never  let  them  in. 

"  Thus  with  my  unfeigned  love  to  all  your  brethren,  whom  I 
honor  and  tender  in  the  Lord,  with  my  poor  prayers  for  you  and 
them,  that  in  his  time  he  would  unite  and  bring  you  farther,  I 
rest,  in  great  haste. 

Your  brother  in  Christ, 

Thomas  Shkpaed.* 

"From  Nbwtows,  (Cambridge,) 
■■  April  2,  1636." 


The  answer  of  Mr.  Mather  to  this  faithful  and  truly  apostoU-*^ 
eal  letter  was  worthy  of  a  Puritan  and  a  Chriatian.  iDBlead  of 
that  Mif-sufBcient  and  JDSubordinate  spirit  with  which  adverse 
dedsions  of  coundb  are  now  frequently  met  by  ministers  and 
churcht^,  Mr.  Mather  acknowledges  the  justness  of  the  rebuke, 
cordially  submits  lo  the  authority  of  the  council,  and  expreseee 
the  deejiest  gratitude  for  the  faithfulness  of  hia  brethren. 
**  As  for  what  yuu  ^)>uke  Uiat  day,"  he  says  to  Itli'.  Shepiird, 

1  bless  the  I<ord  for  it.  I  am  so  tar  from  any  hard  ihoughls 
toward  you  for  ihe  same,  ilial  you  have,  by  your  free  and  failli- 
fal  dealing  that  day.  endeared  yourself  in  my  esteem  more  than 
ever,  tliough  you  were  always  much  honored  and  very  dear  lo 
me.  And  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  forever,  that  put  it 
'fato  your  hearts  and  mouths,  all  of  you,  to  express  yourselves  ag 
JOQ  did  ;  for  we  now  see  our  unworthiness  of  such  a  privilege 
W  church  communion  is,  and  our  unlitness  for  such  a  work  as  lo 
Wter  into  covenant  with  himself,  and  to  be  accepted  of  his 
people.  ...  If  the  counterfeiting  Gibeonitea  were  made 
fewen  of  wood  and  drawers  of  water,  because  they  beguiled 
Isntel  to  enter  into  league  and  covenant  with  them,  when  they 
not  the  men  that  they  seemed  to  be,  it  is  as  much  as  we  are 
'  worthy  of.  thai  we  may  be  hewers  of  wood,  etc.,  for  Ihe  churches 
Jtere,  because  we  attempted  a  leuguc  nnd  covenant  with  our 
riiarcbes,  and  were  not  worthy  of  such  a  matter,  nor  meet  lo  be 
Mvenanted  with,  though  —  blessed  be  the  Lord  for  it  —  the 
beads  of  the  congregation  of  the  Lord's  Israel  beTC  were  not  so 
hasty,  and  rash,  and  credulous  as  lliey  were  in  the  days  of  Joshua. 
.  But  you  will  say.  Why,  then,  did  you  present  yourself 
vitb  the  people  before  the  Lord  aod  the  churches  ?  I  will  tell  you 
the  trath  therein.  Tbcj  pressed  me  into  it  with  much  importu* 
nity,  and  so  did  others  also,  till  I  was  ashamed  lo  deny  any  longer, 
and  laid  it  on  me  as  a  thing  to  which  I  was  bound  in  conscience 
to  aeeenl  to ;  bcrause  if  I  yielded  not  to  join,  there  would  be, 
Mud  they,  no  church  at  all  in  iliis  place ;  and  so  a  tribe,  as  it 
trere,  abould  perish  out  of  Israel,  luid  all  tlkrougb  my  default. 
Tht*  kind  of  arguing,  meeting  that  inward  vainglory,  which  I 


CXXXIl  LIFE    OF    TUOIIAS    SUKPAKD. 

spake  of  befgre,  was  IL  that  drew  me  forward,  and  prevailed 
agfunst  the  consciousness  of  my  own  insnlBcicDcy,  and  against 
tliat  timorouaness  that  I  eotnctimes  found  in  mj'self.  ...  It 
wae  pride  that  induced  me  to  yield  to  their  importunity,  be- 
cuuae  I  was  desirous  to  have  lite  praise  and  glory  of  being 
tractiible  and  easy  when  enircated,  and  not  to  be  noted  for  a 
Btiibbom  and  of  a  stiff  spirit.  .  .  .  But  vrhy,  then,  did 
we  bring  Moncs  so  unhatnmered  and  ui^ewn  —  evidences  of 
f^th  no  fairer,  etc.  f  In  this,  sir,  you  lay  your  finger  upon 
our  aore  directly;  neither  can  wo  here  put  in  any  other  plea 
but  guilty.  The  good  Lord  pardon,  suith  Hezekiah,  every  one 
that  prepareth  his  heart  to  seek  God,  though  he  be  not  cleansed 
according  to  tbe  puriflcation  of  the  sanctuary.  Let  us  beg  the 
help  of  your  prayers  for  pardon  herein,  as  Hezekiah  did  par- 
don for  that  people,  and  for  more  grace  and  care  that,  if  we  ever 
come  forth  again  for  the  same  purpose,  —  which,  for  my  pan,  I 
am  ranch  afraid  to  do,  —  we  may  not  come  to  the  dishonor  of 
God,  and  grief  of  his  saints,  as  at  the  last  time  we  did.  The 
Lord  render  you  a  rirh  and  plentiful  inward  for  your  love  and 
faithfulness. 


Nothing  can  he  more  beautiful  than  the  temper  exhibiled  in 
these  letters.  We  hardly  know  which  to  admire  most,  the  Chris- 
linn  faithfulness  and  lore  of  the  pastor  of  Cambridge,  or  the 
meekness,  humility,  and  thankfulness  for  reproof,  expressed  by 
the  pious  minister  of  Dorchester.  "  Let  the  righteous  smile 
me,"  says  the  Psalmist ;  "  it  shall  be  a  kindness  i  and  let  hira 
reprove  me ;  it  shall  be  an  excellent  oil,  which  shall  not  break 
my  head ;  for  yet  my  prayer  also  shall  be  in  their  calamities." 
Mi^.  Shepard,  upon  receiving  Mr.  Mather's  reply,  must  have 
felt  as  Paul  did  when  he  witnessed  the  effect  of  his  Epistle 
upon  ihe  Corinlhiana.  "Though  I  make  you  sorry  with  a  let- 
ter,  I  do  not  repent,  though  I  did  repent ;  for  I  perceive  that 
the  same  epistle  haih  made  you  sorry,  though  it  were  but  for  a 


LtrK  or  iituHAs  suKPAKD.  cxKun 

Q.     .     .     .     For  j'e  were  made  sony  afier  a  godly  mon- 
ihot  ye  might  receive  damage    bj  us   in  noUiitig."     It  is 
aeceaearj  only  to  add,  that  the  people  of  Dorchester,  humbled 
sod  instructed  by  the  opinioii  and  failbful  dealing  of  the  council, 
"  came  forth  again,"  in  the  month  of  August  foUuwing,  for  the     > 
purpOM  of  being  organized  into  a  church,  not  now  "  to  the  dla-  ^ 
honor  of  God,"  or  *'  to  the  grief  of  his  saints,"  but  with  the 
^>probaliou  and  sanction  of  their  scrupulous  brethren,  and  to 
Ihp  glory  of  the    Redeemer.      Mr.    Mather  was   immediately     . 
ordained  pastor  of  the  church,  and  continued  to  preside  over  it    I 
with  duttingniahed  ability  and  euccess,  until  his  death  in  1669,  in   I 
the  serenty-ibird  year  of  his  age. 

But  Mr.  Shepard  did  not  conline  his  care  and  labors  to  the 
churches.  Among  the  institutions  which  he  regarded  as  of  pre- 
eminent importance,  and  which  it  was  his  earnest  desire  to  see 
established  in  the  colony,  was  a  college,  to  he,  as  he  expresses  iti^y 
*'anur§ery  of  knowledge  in  tliesC  deaertSj  and  a  su^ly  fgr  poster-' 
ky."  TTie  greJiro^eororouTfathers.  in  coming  lo  this  country, 
vas  not  merely  to  escape  tiuea  and  imprisonment  for  Noncon- 
formity. They  wished,  it  is  true,  for  liberty  lo  worship  God  __ 
■Dcording  to  the  dictates  of  their  own  consciences,  and  they 
shrunk  with  a  natural  dread  from  the  severe  penalties  of  laws 
rbich  they  could  not  obey  without  sin  ;  but  tbey  had  a  nobler 
object  than  fiersonal  safely.  They  had  conceived  the  idea  of  a 
Cbrisiiaii  commonwealth,  widely  ditTerent,  in  its  form  and  princi- 
ples, from  any  tliat^EE^T^isiM  in  Ihe  world:  and  this  idea  they 
began  to  realixe  as  soon  as  they  set  foot  upon  these  shores. 
BeoidM,  therefore,  the  instruction  which  their  children  received 
M  the  fireside,  and  hi  the  primary  schoobi,  they  wanted  an  institu- 
tion for_the  e^ucHlion  tuid  Inuniiig  of  young  men  for  the  learned 
•pftrfiiitiniMi  and  especially  for  Ihc  Christian  ministry,  williout 
which  all  ibeir  labor  and  sucriliccs  would  be  in  vain.  The  impor- 
tant stations  occupied  by  the  able  and  learned  founders  of  the 
■bnrch  and  state  would  soon  be  vacant;  and  oven  if  a  sufficient 
■tnnber  of  scliolars  could  be  procured  from  ilie  parent  country  to 
them,  yet  tho«e  who  were  educated  abroad,  under  an  entirety 
TOL.  I.  I 


Mlsxit  like  of  tuomas  shepard. 

different  rcligiuua  and  politicul  constitulioii,  could  not  be  SO 
thoroughly  acquithued  with  tlie  grounds  of  the  civil  and  religious 
institutions,  nor  bo  much  attached  lo  the  inlcresta  of  ilie  eolouj, 
as  children  who  were  born  and  educnted  here.  As  soon,  there- 
fore, Bays  one  of  the  early  setileN,  as  "  God  had  carried  us  safely 
to  New  England, and  we  had  builded  our  houses,  provided  neces- 
saries for  our  own  liveUbood,  reared  convenient  places  for  God's 
worship,  and  settled  the  civil  govenimcnt,  one  of  the  next  things 
we  longed  tor  and  looked  after  was,  to  advance  learning  and 
to  perpetuate  it  to  posterity,  dreading  lo  leave  an  illiterate  ininifi- 
Ity  to  the  churches,  when  our  present  niinisiera  shall  lie  in  the 

The  plan  of  founding  a  college  in  Masaachusetta  was  brought 
before  the  General  Court  at  its  session  at  Newtown  in  Sepltm- 
y(^  ber,  1636.  It  was  then  resol-ved  that  such  an  institution  should 
be  immediately  commenced,  ajid  the  sum  of  lour  hundred  pounds 
was  immediately  appropriated  as  the  beginning  of  a  fund  tor  its 
endowment — a  grant  which,  inadequate  as  it  confessedly  was,  yet 
considering  the  poverty  of  the  colony,  and  the  distractions  pro- 
duced by  the  ••  war  with  the  Indians  and  the  Familiats,"  which 
was  then  raging,  must  be  regarded  as  very  liberal. 

The  place  selected  for  the  college  was  Newtown,  which,  in 
honor  of  the  university  where  most  of  the  early  New  Eng- 
land fathers  were  educated,  was  thenceforth  called  Catnbridge. 
For  this  choice  of  Newtown  hs  the  seat  of  the  new  university 
there  were  two  weighty  reasons.  One  was,  that  through  the 
influence  of  Mr.  Shepard,  under  God,  tlie  congregation  in  this 
place  had  been  preserved  from  the  contagion  of  Antiiiomian- 
ism,  which  waa  then  threatening  the  utter  dissolution  of  the  Itus- 
ton  church,  and  had  begun  lo  contaminate  many  other  churches 
in  the  colony.  The  other  is  thus  stated  by  Johnson :  "  To 
make  the  whole  world  understand  that  spiritual  learning  was 
the  thing  they  chiefly  desired,  to  sanctify  the  other,  and  make 
the  whole  lump  holy,  and  that  learning,  being  set  upon  its  right 

•  New  EnBlBQd^a  Jiitl  Frails,  p.  13. 


LIFE  OF  TBDK&S  SBBPARD.  CXXXV 

j|A>ject,  might  not  contend  for  error  instead  of  truth,  they  chose 
.tbis  place,  lieiag  then  under  the  orthodox  and  soul- flourishing      / 

istrjr  of  Mr.  Thomm    Shepard  ;  of  whom  it  may  be  &aid,l/ 
wiihoui   any  wrong  to  others,  the  Lord  by  his  ministry  hath 
iavcd  many  a  hundred  iMuls."  * 

The  fund  created  by  the  grant  of  the  GeneraJ  Court  was,  in 
i639,  enlarged  by  the  donation  of  between  ieven  and  eight  hun- 
dred pounds  from  John  Ilari'ard  of  Charle^town,  —  being  half  V 
»f  hi*  estate,  —  together  with  the  whole  of  his  library  of  two 
hundred  and  sixty  volumes;  and  in  honor  of  him,  as  the  chief 
benefactor,  the  institution  was  named  Harvard  CoUege.t  Na- 
iboniel  Katon,  brother  of  Theophilus  Katon  of  New  Harcn,  was 
ihe  first  instructor  in  this  infant  seminary.  He  was  intrusted  , 
vith  tlie  management  of  the  funds,,  as  well  as  with  the  instruction 
of  the  students.  The  funds  he  squandered,  and  toward  his 
pupils  he  manifested  a  disposition  at  once  cruel  and  mean.  For 
fcis  abusive  treatment  of  his  usher,  Sir.  Briscoe,  and  for  some 
Mher  sins  as  great,  though  not  so  notorious,  he  was  dismissed 
from  office,  fined  twenty  pounds  for  the  satisfaction  of  Briscoe, 
«xcoimnutiJcated  by  the  church  of  Cambridge,  luid  finally  com- 
pelled to  leave  the  colony.} 

lu  this  unhappy  and  disgraceful  affair,  Mr.  Shepard,  at  first, 
ianocently  enough,  took  the  wrong  side.     Eaton  professed,  "em-  ^^ 
inently,  yet  falsely  and  most  deceitfully,"  to  be  a  Chiislian ; 
sod  the  good  pastor  of  Cambridge,  who  knew  no  guile,  was  for 
•  long  lime  ignorant  of  his  great  wickedness.     On  one  occasion 
fce  bvnt  poor  Briscoe  with  "a  walimt-tree  plant,  big  enough  to 
Jaive  lulled  a  horse,"  until  the  whole  neighborhood  was  alarmed 
tty  the  cry  of  murder.     Mr.  Shepard.  rushing  into  Ihe  Louse  at 
outcry,  and  seeing  Briscoe  with  his  knife  in  his  hand,  look 
-k  fur  granted  that  the  usher,  and  not  the  master,  was  to  blame,    J 
•ad  immediately  complained  of  him  to  the  governor,  "  for  his    ' 
kwoleoi  speeches,  and  for  crying  out  murder,  and  drawing  his 
teite  i "  demanding  that  he  should  be  required  to  make  a  public 

•  Wonder- work init  ProTiilence,  I6t. 

t   Wiotluop's  Journal,  ii.  81 ,  343.  I  Ibid.  L  301 


CSSXVI  LIPE   OF   THOMAS    8HKI'AKI>. 

acknowledgment  of  his  violence.  And  when  Eulon,  after  much 
labor  with  him  iu  private,  bad  reluctantly  confe^ed  his  guilt, 
Mr.  Shepard,  and  several  of  the  elders,  "camu  inlo  court,  and 
declared  how,  the  evening  before,  ihey  bad -taken  pains  with  bim 
to  convince  him  of  Lis  faullas"  that  he  had  "fi-eely  and  fully 
acknowledged  hia  sin ; "  that  they  "  hoped  he  had  truly  repent- 
ed,"  and  therefore  "  desired  of  the  court  that  he  might  he  par- 
doned and  continued  in  his  emptoyment;  alleging  such  further 
reasons  as  they  thought  fit."  •  But  Mr.  Shepard  was  not  long 
deceived  in  respuct  to  Eaton's  real  character.  lie  soon  saw 
things  in  their  true  light,  and  cordially  assented  to  the  sentence 
by  which  the  hypocrite  was  expelled  from  office,  and  cut  off 
iTom  the  fellowship  of  the  church ;  mourning  deeply  over  this 
great  scandal  to  the  cause  of  truth,  aud  especially  lamenting 
his  own  "  ignorance,  and  want  of  wisdom  and  watchfulness,"  in 
relation  to  the  guilty  man.  Eaton  fled  from  the  colony,  and 
afterward  sent  for  his  wife  aud  children  to  come  to  him  in 
Virginia.  Her  friends  in  Cambridge  urged  her  to  delay  the 
voyage  for  a  while ;  but  she  resolved  to  go,  and  the  vessel  in 
which  she  sailed  was  never  heard  of  afterward.t  This  disaster 
deeply  affected  Mr.  Shepard  ;  and  though  he  was  in  no  sense 
chargeable  with  the  sad  fate  of  tliis  unhappy  family,  he  called 
himself  to  account  as  if  he  were  in  some  measure  guilty  of  their 
blood.  In  bis  diary,  under  dale  of  June  3,  1640,  he  says, 
"  When  tidings  came  to  me  of  the  casting  away  of  Mrs.  Euton, 
|[  did  learn  this  lesson  —  whenever  any  affliction  came,  not  to 
yuh  ap  my  former,  old,  trut  humiliation,  but  to  be  more  humbled; 
for  I  saw  I  was  very  apt  to  do  the  first.  And  I  blessed  God 
for  the  hght  of  this  truth." 

Mr.  Shcpard's  first  wife,  who  had  shared  with  him  the  dan- 
gers of  persecution  in  England,  and  the  hardships  of  his  Hight 
to  the  asylum  which  had  been  providentially  prepared  for  him 
in  this  country,  died,  as  has  been  already  staled,  in  February, 
1636;  and  his  son  Thomas,   then  about  ten  months  old,  was 

•  .Winthrop'B  Joanial,  i.  311.  t  Ibid,  u,  2S. 


LIFE   or   THOMAS   SHEPABP.  CXXXVil 

I    placed  under  the  cnre  of  a  Mra.  Hopkins,  who  was  probnbly  one 

I    of  the  compan;  ihat  camti  over  wjtli  itiem.     For  a  »eaMn,  ihere- 

I    fore,  while  he  was  engaged  in  these  public  labors,  amidsi  the 

dUiraoting   conirarer^ies,  and  other  evils,  which,  as  a  leading 

,    man  in  ihe  colony,  he  could  not  avoid,  his  own  houAe  was  letl 

I    anto  him  desolate ;  and  he  was  obliged  to  encounter  afflictions 

I    ■broad,  without  those  comforis  of  home  lo  which  he  had  been 

accaslomed  in  liis  formtir  trials,  and  which  his  usuollj'  feeble 

bealtii  rendered  necessary. 

I        It  was  natural,  iherelbre,  that  he  should    think  af  another 

flonnecUoi),  and    endeavor  to  rekindle   the   lire   upon  Lis  onn 

bearlh.     "  A  prudent  wife,"  the  sacred  writer  [ells  us,  ■'  is  from 

'    the  liOrd ;"  and  Mr.  Sbepard  soon  obtained  this  great  blessingi 

^o  ihe  month  of  Oclober.  1637,  he  married  Joanna,  the  eldest 

f  of  his  early  friend  and  counselor,  MK  Hooker,  with^ 
)  be  bad  been  long  acquainted,  and  whose  extraordinary 
i  for  Ihe  station  she  was  required  to  fill  he  fully  understood. 
I  TbU  connection  proved  to  be  eminently  suitable ;  and  all  the 
expeclationfl  which  he  and  his  friends  bad  formed  respecting  her 
u  a  wife,  as  a  mother,  and  as  a  helper  in  the  jTreai  work  which 
wa«  at  ibat  lime  tasking  and  exhausting  his  energies,  were  much 
more  than  realised. 

The  year  after  his  marriage,  lie  suffered  a  great  loss  in  the 
death  of  his  early  and  devoted  friend  Roger  Ilarlakenden.  The'^ 
fuaily  of  Harlakenden,  as  the  reader  will  remember,  had  been 
the  protectors  and  supporters  of  Mr.  Shepard,  when,  in  England, 
he  was  bunted  fmm  place  to  place  by  the  pursuivants,  and 
obliged  to  hide  himself  from  the  wrath  of  the  bishops.  Tlio 
two  brothers,  Richaid  and  Roger,  having  been  converted  under 
hii  preaching,  were  ever  among  his  warmest  friends ;  and  Roger, 
unwilling  to  be  separated  from  the  powerful  and  ■*  soul-flourish- 
ing ministry"  which  had  been  bo  highly  blessed  lo  his  soul, 
esune  and  wttlrd  with  his  posior  in  Cambridge.  Mr.  Shepard 
(wlls  him  a  "  most  dear  friend,  and  precious  servant  of  Je«ua 
Chritt."  Hr  wiu  of  such  rejiulalion  Tn  the  I'olony  that  be  was 
ihree  timet  chosen  oMistant ;  and  his  infliience  must  have  been 


or  [he  greatest  service  to  tlie  church  and  ila  miuiater.  He  died 
of  smaL-pox,  November  17,  1638,  being  ooly  twenly-neven 
years  of  age.  "  He  was,"  sixyn  Wintbrop,  "  a  very  godly  man, 
and  of  good  use  both  in  the  comnion wealth  and  in  ihe  church. 
He  was  buried  with  military  honors,  because  he  was  lieutenant 
colonel.  lie  left  behind  a  virtuous  gentlewoman  and  two  daugh- 
terd.  He  died  in  great  peace,  and  lefl  a  sweet  memorial  behind 
him  of  his  piety  and  virtue."  * 

Rood  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Horlakenden,  Mr.  Shepard  him- 
self was  brought  to  the  iKirders  of  the  grave  by  a  disease,  which 
was  probably  brought  on  by  over-exertion,  hardship,  and  grief. 
The  manner  in  which  he  himself  speaks  of  it  leads  us  to  this 
conclusion.  **!  fell  sick,"  he  says,  "after  Mr.  HariakeDdcn's 
death,  my  moat  dear  friend,  and  mo»t  precious  servant  of  Jesus 
Christ;  and  when  I  was  very  low, and  my  blood  much  corrupted, 
the  Lord  revived  me ;  and  after  that  took  pleasure  in  me,  to 
bless  my  hibors,  so  that  I  was  not  altogether  useless  nor  fruitless." 
That  his  sickness — whatever  might  have  been  its  nature — was 
so  severe  as  to  bring  death  very  near,  apparently,  not  only  to  his 
otm  mind,  but  also  to  awaken  painful  apprehensions  in  the  public 
mind  respecting  his  danger,  is  evident  from  a  letter  addressed 
to  him  by  Mr.  Bulkley,  one  of  Ihe  moderators  of  the  late  synod, 
soon  aller  his  recovery. 

"Dear  Sir:  I  hear  the  Lord  hath  so  far  .strengthened 
you,  as  that  you  were  the  last  Lord's  day  at  the  assembly. 
The  Lord  go  on  with  the  work  of  his  goodjiess  toward  you. 
Being  that  now  the  Lord  hnth  enabled  you  thus  lar,  1  desire 
a  word  or  two  from  you,  what  you  judge  concerning  the  teachers/ 
in  a  congregation,  whether  the  administration  of  discipline  and 
sacraments  do  equally  belong  unto  them  with  l)ie  pastor,  and 
whether  he  ought  therein  equally  to  interest  himself.  I  would 
also  desire  you  to  add  a  word  more  concerning  this,  viz.,  what  you 
n  by  the  txecutian  of  discipline,  when  you  distinguish  it  from 


'  Wiulbrop'c  Jaurool,  L  SIS. 


LIFE  OF  lUOMAB   satl-XRD.  Gxxxix 

the  power.  We  have  had  speech  aotnetimee  canceming  the 
lurch's  power  in  matlers  of  disciplini;,  wherein  you  eeemed 
tg  put  i)ie  power  ilsctf  into  the  hands  of  the  church,  but  tA  re- 
the  execution  to  ihe  eldership.  I  would  see  what  you 
eotnpreliend  under  the  word  execution.  I  would  gladJy  hear 
kow  the  common  affairs  of  the  church  stand  with  you.  I  am 
here  shut  up,  and  do  neither  see  nor  hear.  Write  nic  what  you 
.  Let  lue  aUo  know  hqitMr!_Ph.illjps5oih  incline,  whether 
toward  you  or  uiberwi-ie ;  and  what  way  Mr.  Btiigera  is  like  to 
tufp,  whether  to  stay  in  these  parts  or  to  go  unto  Connecticut. 
X  wrote  to  you  not  long  ago,  advising  jou  to  consider  qaid  vaUat 
huntri  ^  I  know  not  whether  you  answered  that  letter.  The 
ird  in  mercy  bless  all  your  labors  to  his  church's  good.  Be- 
aember  my  love  to  Mrs.  Shepard.  with  Mrs.  Harlakenden. 
Grace  be  with  you  all. 

Yours  iu  Christ  Jesus, 

P.    BrLKLBT.' 
"Febnury  I!,  I $38." 

Prom  this  letter,  it  is  evident,  not  only  that  Mr.  Shepard'a 
htess  bad  been  such  as  to  interrupt  his  public  labors,  and  excite 
une  degree  of  alarm  among  his  friends,  but  also,  incidentally, 
th>t  bis  labors  in  the  pulpit,  and  with  the  pen,  were  bo  great  as, 
perimps.  to  retard  hia  complete  recovery,  and  to  render  necessary 
•oroe  fraternal  advice  that  be  should  spare  himself  a  little.  "  I 
wrote  you  not  long  ago,  advising  you  to  consider  qaid  valetit  Aa- 
I  "  —  what  your  shoulders  are  able  to  bear;  a  caution  which 
eenu  not  to  have  laid  to  heart,  for  he  continued  to  labor  beyond 
strength,  and  to  take  upon  his  shoulders  a  weight  which  ihey  . 
9  not  able  to  sustain.  His  laborious  preparation  for  preach-' 
log,  and  his  public  labors  for  the  good  of  tlie  churches  qnd  the 
proiperity  of  the  commonwealth,  were  probably  the  burden 
which  Mr.  Bulkley  feareil  he  would  not  be  able  to  bear. 

Aa   to   those    points  of  ecelesiasiical  order  upon  which  Mr. 
Sulkley  aslu  for  ioformatian,  no  reply  Grom  Mr.  Shepard  has  been 

•  Sfllcblniuii'*  MS   Pkfo.  vol  i.,  <Ei  Mui  Uitt  Soe  Libnij. 


Cxl  LIFE 

preserved ;  but  his  opinions  in  relntion  to  them  are  fully  ex- 
pressed in  hie  published  works.  What  they  were  will  be  seen  when 
ire  come  to  9pcak  of  the  services  which  Mr.  Shepard  rendered 
in  settling  the  principles  upon  which  Ibe  early  CuDgregational 

""hiirches  were  oi^anizeil. 


CHAPTER   X. 

Mr.  Shepani  on  the  point  of  removing  to  Malaheaeck.  —  Canw  of  hia  em- 
bamsamcnLt.  —  Leiicr  from  Mr.  Hooker.  —  Stato  of  Mr.  Shepanl's  mind 
during  ih IB  season.  —  Kxlracts  from  his  dinrf.  —  Difflunlij  rpmoced. — 
Binh  of  children.  —  Sumael  Shcpurd.  —  Letters  from  Mr.  Hooker. 

In  the  year  1640,  Mr.  Shepard,  in  addition  to  his  other  afflic- 
tions, waa  plunged  into  almost  inextricable  embarrafsment  with 
^      respect  to  bis  afTuirs,  wbicli  had  well  nigh  comQelled  liim  to  re- 

.. move  to  Rome  other  planlatioD,  or  lo  return  to  England.     This 

embarrassment  was  occasioned  by  the  depreiised  slate  of  the 
colonists  with  respect  to  the  means  of  meeting  iheir  pecuniary 
obligations.  The  influx  of  settlers  bad  ceased  in  consequence  of 
the  change  of  affairs  in  England ;  and  this  sudden  check  to  im- 
migration had  an  immediate  elfect  upon  the  price  of  cattle,  etc. 
While  the  inhabitants  continued  to  multiply,  a  farmer,  who  could 
spare  but  one  cow  in  a  year  out  of  his  stock,  used  to  clothe  his 
family  with  the  price  of  it  at  the  expense  of  the  new  comtrs ;  when 
this  failed,  they  were  put  to  great  difflculticB.*  Some  of  the  colo- 
nists, in  ihe  ^prMgect^  a  thoj^ugh  reformation  in  England,  began 
lo  think  of  returning  lo  Iheir  nuijre  TanI  "  Others,  despairing  of 
any  more  supply  from  thence,  and  yet  not  knowing  how  to  live 
there  if  they  should  return,  bent  their  minds  wholly  to  removal 
to  the  south  parts,  supposing  they  should  find  better  means  of 
fluhsiatence  there,  and  for  this  end  put  off  iheir  estates  here  at 
very  low  rales.  These  things,  together  with  the  scurcily  of 
jDoney,  caused  a  sudden  and  very  great  abatement  of  the  prices 

*  UutvhiasoD,  Hiat.  KImi.  i.  93. 


LIFB   OF  TBUHt&S   3HKFAKD. 


GXU 


of  all  our  comoioditie^  Com  was  sold  ordinarilj'  at  three  shil- 
fin^  the  bushel,  a  good  cow  nt  seven  or  eight  pounds,  and  Bome 
M  five,  and  otlier  tilings  answerable,  whereby  it  came  to  pass  that 
men  could  not  pay  tlieir  debts,  for  no  money  nor  beaver  were 
to  be  had  ;  and  he  who  last  year,  or  hut  three  months  before, 
wa.-<  wortli  one  thousand  pounds,  could  not  now,  if  he  should  sell  liis 
whole  estate,  raise  two  hundred  pounds,  whereby  God  "  taught  us 
the  ranity  of  all  ouiwanl  things  1 "  "  The  scarcity  of  money  made 
■  great  change  in  hU  commerce.  Merchants  would  sell  no  wares 
but  for  ready  money.  Men  could  not  pny  iheir  debts,  though  they 
had  enough.  Prices  of  cattle  fell  soon  to  the  one  half  and  less, 
yea,  lo  a  third,  and  after,  to  one  fourth  pari."  •  For  the  relief 
of  the  people,  at  this  season  of  uneipecled  trial,  the  court,  in 
October.  ItiJO,  ordered  that,  for  all  new  debts,  com  should  be  a  ^  ■ 
legal  tender  ;  Indian  com  to  be  received  al  four  shillings,  sum- 
■ler  wheat  at  six  shillings,  rye  and  barley  at  five  shillings,  and 
pesie  at  six  shillings  per  bushel ;  and  that  upon  all  executions  for 
,  old  debt*,  the  officer  should  take  land,  houses,  com,  cattle,  fish, 
or  other  commodities,  and  deliver  the  same  in  full  satisfaction  to 
the  creditor  at  such  prices  as  should  be  fixed  by  three  intelligent 
•nd  indifferent  men,  to  bo  chosen,  one  by  the  creditor,  another  by 
the  debtor,  and  the  third  by  the  marshal ;  the  creditor  being  at 
Sbertj  to  make  choice  of  any  goods  in  the  possession  of  the 
debtor,  and  if  there  were  not  sufficient  goods  to  discharge  the 
debt,  then  he  might  lake  house  or  land.f 

What  the  exact  auMunt  of  Kir.  Shepard's  nominal  salary  was, 
■$A  ihia  time,  is  not  known ;  hut  from  the  report  of  a  commitlee, 
^ipointed  a  few  years  later  to  make  inijuiries  in  relation  to  the 
Bainienance  of  ministers  in  (he  vicinity  of  Cambridge,  a  totcra- 
Vy  accurate  idea  may  be  formed  as  to  his  means  of  subsistence. 
Mr.  Hobort,  of  Hingham.  received  ninety  potiuda  a  year,  one 
third  in  wheat,  one  third  in  com,  and  the  remainder  in  pease. 
Mr.  Mather,  of  Dorchester,  received  one  hundred  pounds,  pay- 


•  VlMbrofi'*  JonnuLU.  HI,  IB- 

t  Wiulfop'a  Jovmal,  IL  T.    Felfi  MaaMdiuMiti'  Camacj,  p.  U. 


CXlii  LIFE    OF  TBOUAS    SBEPAKD. 

able  in  corn,  and  in  work  as  he  miglil  ha? 
Eliot  and  Mr.  Danforih,  of  Roxbury,  fiixly  pounUs  each,  in 
com  ;  Mr.  Allen,  of  Dedham,  stxly  pounds,  in  com  and  work  ; 
Mr.  Flint  and  Mr.  Thoini>s«n.  of  Brainlree,  fifrj-five  poonils 
each,  in  com ;  Mr.  Wilson,  of  Medfield,  aiity  pounds,  in  com. 
lir.  Sliepard's  salary  was  not,  probably,  greater  ilian  that  of  bis 
friends  in  tlie  neighboring  towns,  aor  paid  in  a  different  manner. 
And  when  the  scarcity  of  money  became  so  great  that  the  corn, 
10  which  bis  fialary  was  paid,  could  neither  be  sold  for  cash  nor 
ezciianged  at  the  merchant's  for  the  various  other  necessaries  of 
life,  nor — until  the  order  of  court  above  referred  to  —  made 
a  legal  tender  for  any  debt.  Ids  situation,  as  well  as  that  of  all 
the  ministers  in  the  colony,  wlio  had  no  means  of  subsistence 
except  their  stipulated  amount  of  corn,  must  have  been  well 
nigh  desperate.  And  if,  in  addition  lo  ibe  unavoidable  pres- 
sure which  had  come  upon  him,  any  of  the  people  —  before 
the  price  of  corn,  as  part  of  the  circulating  medium,  had  been 
fixed  by  the  court — unfairly  charged  their  minister  the  price 
which  this  commodity  bore  the  year  before,  when  it  had  suddenly 
iklleD  to  one  third,  or  to  one  quarter,  of  its  former  value,  and,  as 
Wintbrop  says,  "  wonld  buy  nothing,"  the  evil  wonld,  of  course,  be 
greatly  aggravated.  Reduced  to  great  extremity  with  respecl 
to  his  maintenance,  Mr.  Sbepard  contemplated  a  removal  to 
Matabeseck,  a  settlement  upon  the  Uonnectlcut  River,  wbich  was 
afterward  called  Middletown.  To  this  step  he  was  urged  by 
Mr.  Hooker,  his  father-in-law,  in  the  foHownig  interesting  letter, 
liever  before  publislit-d,  which  strongly  insinuates  that  there  had 
been  some  injustice  and  unfair  dealing,  as  well  as  poverty,  among 
the  people,  with  respect  to  the  payment  of  their  debts. 

"Drar  Sort:  Since  the  first  intimation  I  had  from  my 
cousin  Samuel,  when  you  were  here  with  us,  touching  the  number 
and  nature  of  your  debts,  I  conceived  and  concluded  the  conse- 
quences lo  be  marvelous  desperate,  in  the  view  of  reation,  in 
truth,  unavoidable,  and  jct  insupportable  i  such  as  were  likely  to 
ruinate  the  whole.    For  why  should  any  send  commodities,  much 


)  come  Ihemseives,  lo  iho  place,  when  there  Is  no  juetica 
amongst  men  to  pay  for  what  they  lake,  or  the  place  is  so  forlorn 
and  helplese,  that  men  can  not  support  ihemseives  in  a  way  of 
jutitice,  and  therefore  there  is  neither  sending  nor  coming,  unless 
they  will  make  themselves  and  suletance  a  prey  ?  And  hence  to 
weary  a  man's  self  to  wrestle  out  an  inconvenience,  when  it  ie 

rund  all  po^sihilicies  which  are  laid  before  a  man  in  a  rational 
course,  is  ajtogeiiier  bootless  and  fruitless,  and  is  lo  increase  a 
i  misery,  not  to  ease  it.  Such  be  the  mazes  of  mischievous 
faaxards,  that  our  sinful  de{>arlure3  from  the  right  and  righteous 
ways  of  God  bring  upon  u^,  that,  as  birds  taken  in  an  evil  net, 
Ihe  more  they  stir,  ihe  faster  they  are  tied.  If  there  was  any 
mSieicncy  to  make  satisfaction  in  time,  then  respite  might  send 
And  procure  relief;  but.  wlien  that  is  wanting,  delay  is  to  make 
many  deaths  of  one,  and  to  make  them  all  more  deadly. 

■*  The  first  and  safest  way  for  peace  and  comfort  is  to  quit  a 

ui's  hand  of  the  sin,  and  so  of  the  staying  of  the  plague. 
Happy  is  be  that  hath  none  of  the  guilt  in  Uie  commission  of 
evils  sticking  to  him.  But  he  that  is  faulty,  it  will  be  his  happi* 
cover  himself  by  repentance,  both  sudden  and  seasona- 
bly serious ;  aod  when  that  is  done  in  such  hopeless  occasions,  it 
ii  good  lo  sit  down  under  the  wisdom  of  some  word.  That  which 
■  crooked  nobody  cad  make  straight,  and  ihal  which  is  iranting 
»ooc  can  supply,  (Eccl.  i.  15  ;)  and  then  seek  a  way  in  heaven 
Sat  gam  pa,  when  there  is  no  way  on  earth  tluit  appears.  You 
M>y  that  which  1  long  since  supposed :  the  magistrates  are  at 
Ifceir  wit's  end,  and  1  do  tioi  marvel  ul  iL 

"  But  is  there,  then,  nothing  to  be  done,  but  Ui  sink  in  our 
I  confess  here  lo  reply,  and  lliat  u|>on  the  sudden,  is 
irholly  beyond  all  my  skill.  Yet  I  must  needs  say  something,  if 
rk  be  but  lo  breathe  out  our  thoughts,  and  so  our  sorrows.  I  say 
oura.  beuiuse  ihe  evil  will  reacli  us  really  more  than  by  bare 
sympathy.  Taking  my  former  ground  for  granted,  that  ihe 
««akneu  of  ihu  l>o<ly  is  such  that  it  is  not  able  to  bear 
tbs  diaeaao  longer,  but  is  like    to  grow  wor»e  and  more  unfit 


CxUt  LIF£   op  THUMAS   SHKl-Aim. 

for  cure,  —  which  I  suppose  is  the  case  io  hanil,  —  then  I  can 
not  see  but  of  necessity  this  course  must  be  taken :  — 

"  1.  Tlie  debtors  must  freely  and  fully  tender  llicmaelves  and 
ftU  they  have  into  the  handa,  and  be  at  the  mercy  and  discretion, 
of  the  creditors.  And  this  must  be  done  nakedly  and  really.  It 
is  too  much  that  men  have  rashly  and  unjustly  taiken  more  than 
they  were  able  to  repay  and  satisfy  ;  therefore  they  must  not  add 
fttlsehood  and  dissimulation  nhen  they  come  to  pay,  and  so  not 
only  break  their  estate,  but  their  consdencea  finally.  I  am  afraid 
there  be  old  arrearages  of  tliia  nature  that  lie  yet  in  the  dark. 

"  2.  The  churches  of  the  commonwealth,  by  joint  consent  and 
■erious  considGnition,  must  make  a  privy  search  what  have 
been  the  courses  and  sinful  carriages  which  have  brought  in 
and  increased  this  epidemical  evil ;  pride  and  idleness,  excess  in 
apparel,  building,  diet,  unsuitable  to  our  beginnings  or  abil- 
ities ;  what  toleration  and  connivance  at  extortion  and  oppres- 
sion ;  the  tradesman  willing  the  workman  may  take  what  he 
will  for  his  work,  that  he  may  aak  what  he  will  for  his  com- 
modities. 

"  3.  When  they  have  humbled  themselves  unfeignedly  be- 
fore the  Lord,  then  set  up  a  real  reformation,  not  out  of 
politic  respects,  attending  our  own  devices,  but  out  of  plain- 
ness, looking  at  the  rule,  and  following  that,  leave  the  rest  to 
the  Lord,  who  will  eyer  go  with  those  who  go  Jiis  own  way. 

"  Hit  prmmUiit :  I  can  not  see  in  reason,  but  if  you  can  sell, 
and  the  Lord  afibrd  you  any  comfortable  chapmen,  but  you 
should  remove.  For  why  should  a  man  stay  until  the  house 
fall  on  his  head  ?  or  why  continue  his  being  there  where  in 
reason  he  shall  destroy  his  substance?  For  were  men  mer- 
chants, how  can  they  hold  it,  when  men  cither  want  money 
to  buy  withal,  or  else  wont  honesty,  and  will  nut  pay  ?  The 
more  honest  and  able  any  persons  or  plantations  be,  their 
rates  will  increase,  slocks  grow  low,  and  their  incre.ise  little  or 
nothing.  And  if  remove,  why  not  to  Mjitabeseck?  For  may 
be  the  geatleinen  will  not  come,  and   that  is   moat  Ukel/  {  or, 


LIFE   OF  TKOMA9   SHEPARD.  CXlV 

if  they  do,  ttiey  will  sot  come  all ;  or  if  all,  is  it  not  prob- 
able but  they  may  be  entreated  lo  abate  one  of  the  lota  ?  or, 
lot  abate.  —  if  they  lake  double  lots,  —  ihey  must  bear 
double  rates :  and  I  see  not  but  all  plantations  Bnd  this  a  main 

wound,  ihey  want  men  of  abilities  and  parts  to  manage  their 
affairs,  and  men  of  estate  lo  bear  charges.  I  will  tell  thee 
mine   wbole  heart :    considering,  as  I  conceive,  your  company 

aitsl   break,   and  considering  things  tU  t*pra,   if  you  can  sell, 

rou  should  remove. 

"  If  I  were  in  your  places,  I  should  let  those  that  must  and 
will  transplant  themselves  as  they  see  fit,  in  a  way  of  provi- 
di'nc«  and  prudence,  I  would  reserve  a  special  company,  —  but 
out  many,  —  and  I  would  remove  hither.  For  I  do  verily  think 
that  either  the  gentlemen  will  not  come,  or,  if  they  do,  ihey  may 
JVC r-en treated  not  lo  prejudice  the  plantation  by  taking  loo 
much.  And  yet,  if  I  bad  but  a  convenient  epare  number,  I  do 
ive  that  would  not  prove  prejudical  to  any  comfortable  sub- 
■iitcnce  ;  fur  able  men  are  most  fit  to  carry  on  occasions  by  their 
prrsons  and  e.'ttates  witb  most  success.  These  are  all  my  thoughts ; 
bnt  they  are  inter  not ;  use  them  as  you  8e«  meet.  I  know  to 
begin  plantations  is  a  hard^ork ;  and  I  think  I  have  seen  aa 
LUch  dllTicully,  and  come  to  such  a  business  with  as  much  dis- 
Ivantage,  as  most  men  could  do,  and  therefore  I  would  not 
press  men  against  their  spirits.  When  persons  do  not  choose  a 
work,  they  will  be  ready  to  quarrel  with  the  liardness  of  iL  Thia 
«nly  is  lo  me  beyond  encepiion  :  if  you  do  remove,  considering 
tlii:  curnssfiondcnce  you  have  here  of  hearts,  and  hands,  and 
help*,  you  shall  never  remove  to  any  place  with  the  like  advan- 
tage. Tlie  piUur  of  lire  and  cl!>uil  go  before  you.  and  the  Father 
of  mercies  be  the  God  uf  all  th«  changes  that  pass  over  your 
bead."    ...  -  Tiniu  tuut, 

T.  HOOKKB." 

'Vvi.XXttO. 

"  Sinl  mutiuB  prteet  in  perpHuiun." 


I 


*  Hatdiiaaon'i  MB.  Papen,  voL  L  pp.  37-40. 


I 


In  a  subsoqucnt  letter,  but  without  date,  Mr.  Hooker  refers 
aJn  to  the  subject  of  Mr.  Shepard's  removal. 
"Touching  your  business  at  Matabeseck  ;  this  is  the  compssa 
it :  Mr.  Fenwick  is  willing  that  you  and  yoar  company  should 
tne  thither  upon  these  terms  ;  Provided  that  you  will  reserve 
three  double  lots  for  three  of  the  gentlemen,  if  they  come  ;  that 
is,  those  three  lots  must  carry  a  double  proportion  to  that  which 
youra  lake.  If  tliey  take  twenty  acres  of  meadow,  you  must 
re3er\-e  forty  for  them ;  if  thirty,  threescore  for  them.  This  is 
all  we  could  obtain,  because  he  stays  one  year  longer  in  expecta' 
tion  of  bb  company,  at  the  least  some  of  them ;  and  the  like 
hath  been  done  in  Quinipiack,  And  halh  been  usual  in  such  be- 
ginnings. Therefore  we  were  Bileut  in  such  a  grant,  for  the 
while.  Consider,  and  write  back  your  thoughts.  I  am  now 
weary  with  writing,  anfl  I  suppose  you  will  be  with  reading. 
The  blessing  of  Him  that  dwelt  in  the  bush  dwell  with  you  for- 
ever. Totus  tuut, 

T.  HOOKES."  • 

The  general  state  of  Mr.  Shepard's  mind  in  view  of  this  con- 
templated removal,  and  the  painful  circumstances  which  had 
brought  him  into  these  straits,  may  be  inferred  from  some  re- 
marks found  in  his  diary  during  this  gloomy  season. 

"  February  14,  1640.  When  there  was  n  church  meeting  to 
be  resolved  about  our  going  away,  viz.,  to  Matabeseck,  I  looked 
on  myself  as  poor,  and  as  unable  to  resolve  myself  or  to  gnido 
others  or  myself  in  any  action,  as  a  beast ;  and  I  saw  myself  in 
Y,  respect  of  Christ  as  a  brule  is  in  respect  of  a  man.  And  hence  I 
left  myself  on  Christ's  wisdom." 

It  is  a  peculiar  feature  in  all  Mr.  Shepard's  references  to  his 

trials,  that  he  never  complains  of  outward  difficulties, — never 

mapifestB   any  ira]JatiejjiSi~u'n3er  his  losses  and  privations. — 

never  blames  those  by  whom  he  has  been  made  to  suffer.  —  but 

•  always  condemns  himself,  and  makes  every  untoward  event  in 

•  Iluirhiuwa's  US.  Paperti,  vol  i. 


K 


i 


I.tFE   OP  THDIUS   SBEFAKD.  Cxlvu 

Ills  life  a  menne  of  humbling  and  bringing  him  nearer  to  God.^ 
When  he  wua  silcnceil  tuid  driven  forth  as  a  fugitive  bjr  Bishop 
I.AU1I,  he  thought  it  wna  "  for  his  sins"  that  the  Ixwd  thus  set 
his  adversaries  E^ainst  him. 

It  is,  indeed,  iraposaitile  to  discover,  by  reiuling  his  diary,  how 
great,  or  of  what  kind,  hia  external  trials  were  ;  or  even  whether, 
al  this  time,  there  were  any  parlii'ularly  trying  circumslances  in 
his  condition  ;  and  it  was  not  vntil  after  long  examination,  and  a 
very  fortunate  accident,  as  it  might  be  called,  that  the  extract 
above,  standing  as  it  docs  without  any  explanation,  wns  found  to 
relate  to  embarrassments  wliicli  threatened  the  very  existence  of 
bis  congregation  in  Cambridge.  As  illustrations  of  this  feature^ 
the  following  passages,  taken  almost  at  random  from  bis  dinry 
during  this  season,  may  be  given  :  — 

"December  1.  A  tmall  thing  troabUd  me.  Hence  I  saw,  / 
that  though  the  Lord  hod  made  me  that  night  attain  to  that  part  v 
of  humiliation  to  see  that  I  deser%'ed  nothing  but  misery,  yet  I 
fell  short  in  this  other  pari,  viz..  to  submit  to  God  in  any  cross- 
ing providence  or  command,  but  lind  a  spirit  soon  touL'hed  and 
provoked.  I  saw  obo  that  the  Lord  lei  sin  and  Satan  prevail 
there,  that  I  might  see  my  ein,  and  be  more  bumbled  by  it,  and 
BO  get  strength  against  it." 

"  January  1 1.  In  the  morning  the  Loi'il  presented  to  me  tht  v  , 
»ad  flaU  of  Ae  church  ;  which  put  mc  upon  a  spirit  of  sorrow  for 
my  Bins  as  one  cause,  and  to  resolve  in  season  to  go  visit  all 
families.  But  lirst  to  begin  with  myself,  and  go  to  Chrbt,  that 
he  nay  begin  lo  pour  out  his  ointment  on  mc,  and  then  to  my 
wife,  and  then  to  my  family,  and  then  to  my  brethren." 

"Jnnaaiy  30.  When  I  was  in  meditation,  I  saw,  when  Chritl 
teat  prttftU,  all  bleuings  vrrre  present ;  as  where  any  were  with- 
out Christ  present,  there  all  sorrows  were.  Hence  I  saw  hoiy, 
liule  of  Chriat  was  present  in  me.  I  saw  I  did  not  cc 
and  live  of  myself,  that  Christ  might  be  and  live  in  me.  I  »nw 
that  Christ  was  to  do,  counsel,  and  direct,  and  that  I  should  he 
wholly  diffident  of  myself,  and  careful  for  this,  tliat  be  might  bo 
all  to  me.  Hence  I  blessed  Christ  for  ahowiiig  me  this,  and 
moiiiTied  for  the  want  of  it." 


:/ 


THOXA8   SREPARD. 


"  Febraary  1.  When  I  was  on  my  bed  a  Slonday  mominjr, 
the  Lord  let  me  see  that  1  was  nothing  else  but  e.  mam  of  sin, 
and  that  all  I  did  was  very  vile-  Which  when  my  kearl  was 
Eoniewbat  touched  with,  immediatelj  the  Lord  revealed  himself 
to  me  in  hia  fullness  of  goodne.«s,  with  much  sweet  itSection. 
The  Lord  suddenly  appeared,  and  let  roe  see  there  was  strength 
in  him  to  succor  me,  wisdom  to  guide,  mercy  in  hiro  to  quicken, 
.Chriat  to  satisfy ;  and  so  I  saw  all  my  good  was  there,  as  all  evil 
was  in  myself." 

"  February  9.  I  considered,  when  I  could  not  bring  Christ's 
will  to  mine,  I  was  to  bring  mine  to  his.  But  then  it  must  be 
thud:  1.  That  if  ever  he  gives  my  desire,  it  will  be  infinite 
mercy,  and  so  his  will  is  good.  2.  If  he  dolb  not,  yet  I  de- 
served to  be  crossed,  and  to  feel  notbing  but  extremity." 

It  is  probable  that,  at  the  church  meeting*  refer  red  to  February 
14,  Ihe  plan  of  removing  to  MatAbeseck  was  ihroroughty  discussed, 
and  in  view  of  expected  relief  finally  given  up.  For  oil  tlie  next 
day,  February  1.5,  we  find  the  following  entry  in  his  diary:  "I 
was  in  prayer,  and  in  the  beginning  of  it,  that  promise  came  in, 
'  Seek  me,  and  ye  thall  live.'  Hereupon  I  saw  I  had  cause  to 
seek  him  only,  always ;  because  there  was  nothing  else  good, 
and  because  he  whs  always  good.  And  my  heart  made  choice 
of  God  alone,  and  he  was  a  sweet  portion  to  me.  And  I  began 
to  aec  how  well  I  could  be  without  all  other  things  with  him ; 
and  so  learnt  lo  live  by  faith."  Again,  under  date  of  March  2, 
1641,  he  says,  "  I  was  cast  down  with  the  sight  of  our  unwor- 
thiness  in  ibis  church,  deserving  to  be  utterly  wasted.  But 
the  Lord  filled  my  heart  with  a  spirit  of  prayer,  not  only  to 
desire  small  things,  but  with  a  holy  boldness  to  desire  great 
things  for  God's  people  here,  and  for  myself,  vie,  that  I  might 
live  Id  see  all  breaches  made  up.  and  the  glory  of  the  Lord  ujion 
us;  and  that  1  might  not  die,  liut  live  to  show  forth  God's  glory 
to  this  and  the  children  of  the  next  generation.  And  so  I  rose 
from  prayer  with  some  confidence  of  an  answer  —  1.  Because  I 
I  saw  Christ  put  it  into  my  heart  lo  ask  i  2.  Because  he  was  true 
to  bear  all  prayer." 


LIFE   OF   THOUAS   BBEPARD.  Cxlix 

Slill  later,  we  fiad  the  followmg  passage :  — 

"Ot'tober  29.  /  was  mueh  IraiMed  about  the  poverty  of  tAe 
thurehet  :  imd  t  saw  it  wiLs  Eu<:b.  a  miseiy  us  I  could  not  well 
dbcern  tLe  cause  of,  nor  sec  anj  way  ouL  Yet  I  saw  we  might 
find  out  the  cause  of  any  evil  by  (be  Lord's  siroke.  Now,  he 
struck  us  in  outward  hle^iuga,  and  bence  it  is  a  sign  there  was 
oitr  evil ;  1.  In  not  acknowledging  all  we  have  from  God,  (Hos. 
ii.  8 ;)  2.  In  not  serving  God  in  having  llicm ;  3.  In  making 
ourselves  secure  and  hjird  liearleJ  ;  for  lawful  blessings  are  the 
secrA  idols,  and  do  most  hurt ;  and  it  is  then  a  sign  our  greatest  , 
burt  lies  in  having,  and  tlial  the  greaieal  good  lies  in  God's  taking V 
them  away  from  us.  Whereupon  I,  considering  thi!>,  did  secretly 
content  myself  that  the  Lord  should  take  all  from  us,  if  it 
might  be  not  in  wrath,  but  in  love,  hereby  to  glorify  himself 
the  more,  and  to  take  away  the  iuel  of  our  sin.  I  saw  that,  if 
the  Lord's  people  could  be  joyfully  content  to  pari  with  all  to 
the  Lord,  prizing  the  gain  of  a  little  holiness  more  ibaa  enough 
to  overbalance  all  their  losses,  thai  the  Lord  then  would  do  ua 
good." 

Que  more  eiciract  from  his  meditations  at  this  time  will  suffice. 
"July  23.  As  I  was  riding  to  the  sermon,  (lecture  at  Charles- 
town,)  my  heart  began  to  be  much  disquieted  by  seeing  almost 
■11  men's  souls  and  estates  out  of  order,  and  many  evils  in  men's 
liearts,  lives,  courses.  Hereupon  my  heart  began  to  unlhdrav) 
ittfi/ from  my  brethren  and  othert.  But  I  bad  it  secretly 
•aggfstL-d  lo  mc,  that  Christ,  when  he  saw  evils  in  any,  he 
■ought  (o  amend  them,  did  not  presently  withdraw  from  them, ' 
Dor  was  not  perplexed  and  vexed  only  with  them.  And  so  I 
eonsidered,  if  I  had  Christ's  Spirit  in  me,  1  should  do  so.  And 
vLeu  I  saw  that  the  Lord  had  thus  overcome  my  reasoningH  and 
visited  me,  I  blessed  his  name.  I  saw,  also,  the  night  before 
ttiis,  that  a  child  of  Go<l,  in  bis  solitariness,  did  tpreith  againtt 
tfitptatitm,  and  so  overcome  his  discontent,  pride,  and  passion." 

This  event  in  the  life  of  Mr.  Sliepard  is  exceedingly  interest- 
ing, not  only  as  throwing  light  upon  ilie  trials  and  hardships  to 
trhjch  our  fathers  in  the  ministry  were  subjected  in  tb«  earljr 


Cl  LIFE    OP   THOMAS    SHEPARO. 

dajG  of  New  England,  but  ei>|>ecial1y  as  it  brings  out,  in  a  utrik- 
,  ing  manner,  a  prominent  and  beautiful  feature  of  Iklr.  Shepard's 
j  piety.  The  purity  of  f^Id  is  tested  by  the  crucible ;  and  this 
trial  of  a  foitli  "  more  precious  than  of  gold  that  perishelb,"  devel- 
oped a  elate  of  mind  which,  nmidsl  the  abounding  hypocrisy  and 
eelHshness  of  the  world,  it  is  most  delightful  toconlemplale.  The 
J  manner  in  which  he  stayed  himEelf  upon  Gud,  and  rebuked  his 
discontent,  and  quietly  continued  hia  labors,  under  a  burden  ol 
debt  and  of  want,  which,  upon  ordinary  principles,  would  have 
justified  his  removal,  may  serve  as  a  model  of  ministerial  patience 
and  faithfulness  for  ua  at  the  present  day.  Ministers  are  doubt- 
less subjected  to  niiiny  trialii  growing  out  of  an  insufficient  m 
tenance  ;  and  the  people  m,iy  he  more  or  less  in  fault  for  the 
barraaaments  which  distract  their  pastors.  But  a  hasty  remi 
to  Matabeseck  is  not  the  only  cure  ;  nor  will  impatience,  and  dis- 
couragement, and  complaint  make  the  burden  any  lighter.  If,  in 
such  circumstances,  a  minister  can,  tilce  Shepard,  make  the  trou- 
>^ ;  blea  of  his  outward  estate  the  means  of  rendering  him  more 
bumble,  more  prayerful,  more  siibiniseive  to  the  will  of  God, 
more  desirous  of  glorifying  Christ  by  a  faithful  service,  he  may 
live  to  see  "  all  breaches  made  up,  and  the  glory  of  the.  Lord 
upon  him."  He  will  not  die  of  starvation,  but  "  live  to  ehow 
forth  God's  glory  to  this  and  the  children  of  the  next  gcnei-- 
ation."  More  of  the  spirit  of  our  fathers,  under  the  unavoida- 
ble pressure  of  Providence,  or  the  injustice  and  selfishness  of  the 
people,  would  in  the  end  produce  a  great  change  in  the  state  of 
things  ;  would  render  the  minbtry  more  permanent  and  more  re- 
spected, and  the  people  mure  ju»t  and  benevolent  \  would  give  the 
lie  lo  the  charge  that  ministers  labor  merely  for  hire,  and  produce 
in  the  public  aiiiid  a  deep  conviction  that  thase  who  preach  the 
gospel  are  really  the  servants  of  Hiro,  "  who,  though  rich,  for 
our  Bakes  became  poor,  that  we,  through  his  poverty,  raight  be 
rich."  The  injustice  of  the  people  in  withholding  an  ample 
support,  when  it  is  in  their  jiower  lo  give  il,  is  not  hereby  justi- 
fied, but  rebuked  in  the  most  effectual  manner;  and  jierhaps 
nothing  would  be  so  likely  to  make  the  altar  rich  enough  in 


LIFE   OF   THOMAS   SHEI'ASn.  cl! 

AXtemal  offerings  lo  f>upply  all  the  wtinis  of  those  who  niinL<tter  at 
k,  as  ibai  supreme  regard  to  tli<;  interests  of  the  church  and  the 
Aonor  of  Christ,  of  which  Shepard  gives  us  such  a   beautiful 
tan)  pie. 

Of  Mr-  Shepard'g  domestic  afTaJrs,  Bubscquent  to  the  period 
veTerred  to  above,  little  is  known,  except  what  he  has  incidentally 
•told  us  in  hia  invaluable  hut  too  brief  account  of  himself.  That 
;he  HulTered  many  privations  in  couseiiuence  of  the  general  pov-  \ 
'ertf  of  the  people,  is  probBl>le  ;  and  that  amidol  all  hia  afflictions 
fce  labored  with  a  zeal  that  consumed  him,  is  certain.     In  Octo-"' 

1041,  he  says,  "  I  was  very  sad  to  see  the  outward  iranli  of 
<rt(  foimtry,  and  what  would  become  of  me  and  mine,  if  we 
^ould  want  clothes  and  go  naked,  and  give  away  all  to  pay  our 
idebts.  Hereupon  the  Lord  set  mc  upon  prizing  hit  lore,  and  the 
I,ord  made  me  content  with  it.  And  there  I  left  myself,  and 
'begged  this  portion  for  myself  and  for  my  child,  and  for  the 
Again :  "  Oct.  2,  On  Salunlay  night  and  this  rooming 
I  uw,  and  waa  much  affecled  with,  God'n  goodness  unto  me.  the 
It  of  my  father's  house,  lo  send  the  gorpel  to  me.  And  I  saw 
'What  a  great  blessing  it  would  be  to  my  r/iild,  if  he  may  have  it, 
by  my  means  it  comes  to  him.  And  seeing  the  glory  of  this 
Mercy,  the  Lord  stirred  up  my  heart  to  desire  the  blessing  aud 
'presence  of  hia  ordinances  in  this  place,  and  the  continuance  of 
.k»  poor  churches  among  us,  looking  on  them  as  means  to  pre- 
'e  and  propagale  the  gospel.  And  my  heart  was,  for  this  end, 
'Very  desirous  of  mercy,  outward  and  inward,  to  sustain  them,  for 
Ilk  own  mercy's  sake.  And  *o  I  saw  one  xtrong  motive  lo  pray 
ibr  them,  even  for  posterity's  sake,  rather  than  in  England,  where 
*o  mnch  sin  and  evil  was  aboutiding,  and  where  children  might 
be  polluted.  And  I  desired  to  honor  the  Lord  better,  that  I 
might  make  him  known  to  this  generation."  Again :  '•  Oct.  9. 
On  Saturday  morning  I  was  much  affected  for  my  life  ;  that  I 
night  live  still  to  seek,  that  so  I  might  see  God,  and  make 
God  before  my  death."  These  extracts  from  his  diary, 
of  choice  thoughts,  worthy  to  be  the  daily  companion  of 
■linbtcr,  ahow    ibat  with    rcsp«ot  to   bis  appropriM«^ 


dij 


■;  or  THouAi 


work  he  was  diligent,  aiid,  nol  with  standing  his  outward  trials,    ■ 
contented. 

During  ttie  niac  years  wliich  elapaed  between  Mr.  Sliepard's 
Eecond  marriage  and  the  deatit  of  his  excellent  wife,  three  children 
(  were  born  to  him.  The  first,  a  boy,  died  "before  he  saw  the 
sun,  even  in  the  very  birih."  The  second,  Samuel,  was  bom 
October  18,  1641,  at  ihe  lime  of  Mr.  Shcpard's  greatest  domestic 
privation  and  difficulty.  The  third  was  also  a  son,  named  John, 
who,  after  a  brief  and  sickly  life  of  four  tnonihs,  •'  departed  on 
the  Sabbath  morning,  a  day  of  rest,  to  the  bosom  of  rest," 

With  respect  to  Samuel,  we  find  the  following  reference  in  the 
diary,  from  whicli  several  passage*  have  been  already  quoted  :  — 

"October  18.  On  Monday  morning  my  child  was  bom. 
And  when  my  wife  was  in  Iravail,  the  Lord  made  me  pray  that 
she  might  be  delivered,  and  the  cliild  given  in  mercy,  having 
had  some  sense  of  mercy  the  day  before  at  the  sacramcnL  But 
I  began  to  think,  What  if  it  should  not  be  so,  and  her  pains  be 
long,  and  the  Lord  remember  my  sin  ?  And  I  began  to  imagine, 
and  trouble  my  heart  with  fear  of  the  worst.  And  I  underslood 
at  ibat  time  that  my  child  had  been  bora,  and  my  wife  delivered 
in  mercy  already.  Hereupon  I  saw  the  Lord's  mercy,  and  my 
I  own  folly  to  disquiet  my  heart  with  fear  of  what  never  shall  be, 
■>'  and  not  rather  lo  submit  to  (he  Lord's  will ;  and  come  what  can 
come,  to  be  quiet  there.  When  it  was  bom,  1  was  much  affected, 
and  my  heart  clave  to  the  Lord,  who  gave  it.  And  thoughts 
came  in  thai  this  was  the  beginning  of  more  mercy  for  time  lo 
come.  But  I  questioned,  Will  ihe  Lord  provide  for  it  ?  And  I 
aaw  that  the  Lord  had  made  man  (especially  the  church  and 
their  posleriij)  to  great  glory,  to  praise  him,  and  hence  would 
take  care  of  him.  .  .  .  And  I  saw  God  bad  blessings  for  all 
my  children ;  and  hence  1  turned  them  over  to  God." 

This  son,  whom  Mr.  Shepard  and  his  friends  were  wont  (o 

«ill  "  Little  Samuel,"  was  brought  up  in  (he  family  of  his  grand- 

'       father   Hooker,  at  Hartford.      We   calch   a  glimpse  of  him   by 

means  of  a  delightful  letter  from  Mr.  Hooker  to  Mr.  Shepard, 

without  date,  but  written,  as  we  sliould  judge  from  a  pousage  in 


LIFE   Of   THOMAS   SBEFARD. 


Lb,  just  before  the  second  nieeling  of  the  synod  which  agreed 
n  tbe  plaiform,  and  probably  after  ibe  death  of  Samuel's 


"  Dear  Sok  :  This  being  the  first  messenger  which  I  under- 
stand  comes  into  your  coasts,  I  was  glad  to  embrace  the  opporta- 
nity,  tJiai  I  might  acquaint  you  witli  God'a  dealings  and  our  own 
condition  here.  The  winter  hath  been  exceeding  mild  and 
Avorable  above  any  that  ever  yet  we  bad  since  we  came  into 
lhe»e  ends  of  the  earili.  Thus  the  Lord  is  pleased  to  cross  the 
flonc«its  of  the  discontented,  and  accommodate  tbe  comforts  of 
kis  servants  beyond  their  expectations,  and  is  able  to  do  the  like 
in  other  things,  were  we  as  fit  to  receive  them  as  be  is  willing  to 
tfbpense  them  to  us.  Myself,  wife,  and  family  enjoy  our  wonted 
'kiealth.  My  little  Sam  is  Tery  w«ll,  and  exceedingly  cheerful, 
.ud  hath  been  so  all  thb  time,  —  grows  a  good  scholar.  The 
Gule  creature  hath  such  a  pleasing,  winning  disposition,  that  it 
■akea  me  think  of  his  mother  almost  every  time  I  play  with 

TotuM  tutu, 


"  SabUa  leUulandot  Mr.  Cotton,  Mr.  Dunster,  etc." 

In  another  letter,  apparently  subsequent  to  the  preceding,  Mr. 
Hooker  again  speaks  with  a  grandfather's  tenderness  of  his 
"  Little  Sam : "  — 

"  Uj  little  bed-fellow  is  well.  I  bless  the  Lord,  and  I  find 
what  you  related  to  be  true  ;  the  colder  the  weather  grows, 
the  mor«  quiet  he  lies.  1  shall  hardly  trust  any  body  with  him 
but  mine  own  eye.  Young  ones  are  heavy  headed,  and  if  cmce 
they  fall  to  sleep  they  are  hard  to  awake,  and  therefore  unlit  to 
help.  My  wife  wishes  you,  by  advice,  to  give  something  to  little 
John,  to  prevent  the  jaundice.     Preventing  physic  is  be&U     By 


•  HntcUiuon'i  MS.  Papers,  voL  L  p.  M. 


cliv  LIFE   OF  THOUAa   BHErARD. 

(Lis  linic  I  ara  weary  with  wridug,  and  I  suppose  you  may  be  bo 
wiih  reading.  My  eyes  grow  dim,  and  my  hand  much  worge, 
ihough  never  good,  and  tlierefort  my  pen  is  very  unpleasant;  yet 
I  could  not  but  communicate  ray  thoughts  with  you,  according  to 

"  My  wife  and  fricnda  salute  you.     Sam  remembers  his  duty  ; 
b  very  thankful  for  his  things  you  senl,  which  are  received. 
"  The  blessing  of  Heaven  be  with  you. 

Totua  tuiu, 

T.   HOOKKR." 
"  September  IT,  1646." 

Il  is  only  necessary  to  add,  that  Samuel  Shepard  was  graduated 
at  Harvard  College  in  1658  ;  was  ordained  the  third  minister  of 
Rowley  in  1662,  and  died  April  7,  1G68,  at  the  early  age  of 
twenty-seven.  "  He  was,"  says  Mr.  Mitchel,  "  a  pious,  holy, 
meditating,  able,  choice  young  man  —  one  of  the  first  three. 
He  was  an  excellent  preacher,  and  most  dearly  beloved  at  How- 
ley.  The  people  would  have  plucked  out  their  eyes  to  haTe 
saved  his  life." 


CHAPTER   XI. 

Mr.  Sht^pard'a  plan  for  procuring  fancts  for  the  lapport  of  Indigent  students. 
—  Defense  of  the  Nino  Positions.  —  Letter  from  Mr.  Hooker.  —  Chnracler 
of  the  nnawer  to  Ball.  —  Mr,  Cotton's  opinion  of  the  work.  —  Influeoco 
of  Mr.  Shepard  in  proeuring  tho  Cambridge  Plalforui.  —  Letter  from  Mr. 
Booker.  —  Character  of  the  platform,  —  Commendation  of  Higi^inson  and 
Oakea.  —  Birth  of  a  son,  and  nuddeo  death  of  Mn,  Shepard. 

In  consequence  of  the  general  poverty  and  destitution  of  the 
colony  referred  to  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  which  had  almost 
,  driven  Mr.  Shepard  from  Cajnbridge,  the  college,  in  whose  pros- 
peri^  he  felt  the  deepest  interest,  was  in  a  languishing  condition. 

•  Hulchinion's  MS,  Papers,  vol.  i.  p,  100. 


Liri:;    OF   TIIO.MAB   SHEPADI).  cIT 

Its  funds  were  altogether  insufTicicDt  U>  accomplUli  llie  purpose 
for  which  it  was  foandcd  ;  and  euch  was  thu  scarcity  of  money, 
that  many  youog  men,  who  were  desirous  ot  obtaioing  a  liberai 
education,  were  utterly  unable  to  meet  the  expense  of  a  resi- 
dence at  Cambridge.  At  this  crisis,  5Ir.  Sbepard,  ever  fore- 
tnosl  in  promoting  the  cause  of  religious  education  iu  the  colony, 
conceived  the  plan  of  procuring  voluntary  contributjona  of  corn  j  1 
—  money  being  out  of  the  question  —  from  all  parts  of  New  ^  ■ 
England,  for  ihe  maintenance  of  indigent  students.  When  iho 
commissioners  of  the  united  colonies  o£  Massachusetts,  Ptym- 
ooth,  Connecticut,  and  New  Haven  met  nt  Hartford,  in  IC'lV 
Mr.  Shepard,  being  in  Connecticut,  laid  his  plan  before  that  body 
in  the  following  noble  memorial: — 

"To  THE  noaoRED  CoiraissiOKEits:  — 

"  Those  whom  GJod  hath  called  to  attend  the  welfare  of  reli- 
gious commonwealths  have  been  prompt  to  extend  their  care 
for  the  good  of  public  schools,  by  means  of  which  the  common- 
wealth  may  be  furnished  with  knowing  and  understanding  men 
u  all  calling,  and  the  church  with  an  able  minister  in  all  places ; 
without  which  it  is  easy  to  see  how  both  these  estates  may  de- 
cline and  degenerate  into  gross  ignorance,  and  consequently  into 
great  and  universal  profaneness.  May  it  please  you,  therefore, 
among  other  things  of  common  concernment  and  public  benefit, 
to  take  into  your  consideration  some  way  of  comfortable  mnin- 
leiiance  for  that  school  of  Ihc  prophets  that  now  is.  For  al- 
liiuugh  hitherto  God  hath  carried  on  the  work  by  a  special  hand, 
■nd  that  not  without  some  evident  fruit  and  success,  yet  it  is 
fbutid  by  loo  sad  experience,  that,  for  want  of  some  external  sup- 
plies, many  are  discouraged  from  sending  their  children,  though 
preguKitt  and  fit  to  tnke  the  least  impression  thereunto ;  others 
that  arc  sent,  their  parents  enforced  to  take  them  away  loo  soon 
lo  their  own  homes  too  of),  as  not  able  (o  minister  any  comfort- 
able and  seasonable  maintenance  therein ;  and  those  that  are 
continned,  not  without  much  pressure,  generally,  to  the  feeble 
ttbililies  of  their  parents  or  other  private  friends,  who  bear  tho 


clvi  LIVE   OF  TOOMBS   EBEPARD. 

burden  therein  itlune.  If,  therefore,  it  were  rei*mmended  by 
you  to  ihe  freedom  of  every  family  that  is  lible  and  willing 
to  give,  throughout  llie  plantation^  to  give  but  llit^  fourth  part 
of  a  bushel  of  coru,  or  something  e(]uival<;nt  thereto;  und  to 
this  end,  if  every  minister  w-ere  desired  to  stir  up  the  hearts  of 
die  |>eople,  once  in  the  tSlte^t  seiiHin  of  the  year,  to  be  freely  en- 
larged therein ;  and  one  or  tvo  fiiitbful  and  lit  men  apixiinted  in 
ench  town  lo  receive  and  seftsonubly  to  send  in  what  eliiill  be  thus 
given  by  ihum,  —  it  is  conceived,  thai,  as  no  man  would  feel  any 
grie\'ance  hereby,  so  it  would  be  a  blessed  means  of  comforiitble 
provision  for  the  diet  of  divers  such  students  ns  may  stand  in  need 
of  some  support,  and  be  thought  meet  and  worthy  lo  be  coiitiii- 
ued  a  Rt  season  tharein.  And  because  it  may  seem  an  unmeet 
thing  for  this  one  to  suek  und  draw  away  all  that  nouriHhtnenl 
nhieb  the  like  schools  may  need  in  after  times  in  other  colonies, 
your  wisdom  may  therefore  set  down  what  llroilation  you  please, 
or  choose  any  other  way  you  shall  think  more  meet  for  this 
desired  present  supply.  Your  religious  care  hereof,  as  it  can  not 
but  be  pleasing  to  Him  whose  you  are,  and  whom  you  now 
8cr\e,  so  fruit  hereof  may  hereafter  abundantly  satisfy  you  that 
your  labor  herein  hath  not  been  in  vain."  " 

This  memorial  was  received  by  the  commissioners  with  much 
favor.  They  cordially  approved  of  Mr.  Mhepard's  plan,  and 
ordered  that  it  should  be  recommended  lo  the  deputies  of  Ihe 
several  General  Courts,  and  to  the  elders  within  the  four  colo- 
nics, to  call  for  a  voluntary  contribution  of  one  peck  of  corn,  or 
twelve  pence  in  money,  or  its  equivalent  in  other  commodities, 
from  every  family  —  a  recommendation  which  was  adopted  by 
the  courts,  and  very  generally  responded  to  with  great  alacrity 
by  the  people,  suitable  persons  being  appointed  in  all  the  ton-ns 
to  receive  and  disburse  (he  donations.t 

Thus,  through  Ihe  influence  of  Mr.  Shepard,  the  first  char- 
itable provision  for  the  support  of  indigent  scholare  in  New 

•  Hu>Td'iSt*teFftpMi,vo1.il.  p,  IT.         t  W^Atop'a  Joani«l,il.lU. 


LIFE   OF   TB01tA.S   BUSrARD.  cIvU 

■  Snglaitd  was  mmle  at  Cambridge  ;  and  H  noble  exnmple  of  zeal 
■  Ihe  iKlvsiicement  of  learning  nas  exiiibiied,  lunid^t  poverty 
■Iwnisbip,  and  sutTerings,  ihitt  miglil  easily  liave  l>een  plended  in 
i  excuse  for  the  indefinite  potitponement  of  thii)  work.  Mitssachu- 
f  weu»,  in  later  times,  haa  produced  many  liberal  bcnefaciors  of 
\  Harvard  and  otber  college?,  but  none  deserving  of  higher  honor 
lian  Shepanl,  and  those  public-xpi riled  men  whom  he  inspired 
rith  a  zeal  in  behalf  of  this  insiiluiton.  whieh  carried  ihem  to 
I  Uie  wttent  of  their  power,  "  yea,  and  beyond  (heir  power,"  in 
I  nipplying  its  wants. 

At  this  period  of  hia  life,  Mr.  Shepard  wos  equally  zealous 
and  sueccwful  in  the  work  of  estahlishing  and  vindicating  those 
principles,  and  that  ecclcsiastienl  polity,  which  have  ever  dialin-v 
gai^hed  Ma^achuselts  as  a  religions  commonwealth.  In  connee- 
tioD  with  Cotton,  Hooker,  and  Norton,  he  exerted  a  controlling 
iafluencc  in  organising  and  settling  the  Congregational  churches 
npoa  (hat  foundation  where  they  have  stood  until  this  day. 

In  the  year  1636,  a  number  of  Puritan  ministers  in  England, 
kaTing  been  informed  that  the  churches  of  New  England  had 
adopted  a  new  mode  of  discipline,  which  inany  deemed  erroneous,  xy' 
and  which  they  themselves  hiu]  formerly  disliked,  addressed  to 
ttem  a  letter  containing  nine  questions  or  propositions,  Upon 
which  their  mature  opinion  was  requested ;  at  the  same  time 
Hsuring  them,  tlmt.  if  their  answer  was  gatisfactory,  they  should 
receive  the  right  hand  of  fellowship ;  if  otherwise,  their  error 
ibouliJ  be  pointed  out  and  eondemncd. 

The  propositions  which  the  New  England  ministers  were  un- 
4entood  to  have  adopted,  and  which  they  were  now  required  to 
'defend  or  to  renounce,  were  the  following,  viz.:  That  a  pre- 
■eribed  form  of  prayer,  and  set  Liturgy,  is  unlawful ;  that  it  is 

A  lawful  to  join  in  prayer,  or  to  receive  the  sacrament,  where  I 
•  prescribed  Liturgy  it  used  ;  that  the  children  of  godly  and  ap-  | 
proved  Christians  are  not  to  be  baptized  until  their  parents  ' 
bMomo  regular  members  of  some  particular  congregation ;  ' 
It  the  parents  themselves,  though  of  ap|>rored  piety,  ar« 
t  to  be  received  to  the  Lord's  supper  until  they  are  ad- 
roL.  I.  n 


LIFK   QF  TUOaiAS   SaEI'AUD. 

]  mitled  as  members ;  ihat  the  power  of  esconimunicniioii  is  so  in 
I  the  bodj  of  the  churcb,  that  what  the  major  part  thail  decide 
It  be  done,  though  thu  parties,  and  the  real  of  the  assembly', 
are  of  another  iniiid  ;  that  none  are  to  be  admitted  as  members 
unlesa  they  promise  nol  to  depart  or  to  remove  without  the  con- 
sent of  the  congregation ;  that  a  minister  is  so  the  minisler  of  a 
particular  congregalion,  that,  if  they  dislike  him  unjustly,  or 
leave  him,  he  ceases  to  be  their  minister  ;  that  one  minister  can 
not  perform  any  ministerial  act  in  another  congregation  ;  thai 
members  of  one  congregation  may  not  communicate  in  an- 
other. 

This  latter  was  immediately  answered  in  a  pamphlet  contain- 
,  ing  the  views  of  the  New  England  ministers  upon  these  points, 
^  which  were  the  same,  in  substance,  as  those  maintained  in  Cot- 
ton's "  Way  of  the  Congregational  Churches,"  and  afterward 
more  fully  unfolded  and  vindicated  in  "  The  Power  of  the 
Keys."  To  tliis  answer  a  reply  was,  at  the  request  of  the  Eng- 
luh  brethren,  drawn  up  by  Mr.  John  Ball,  minister  of  Whilmore, 
near  Newcastle,  in  Staffordshire,  entitled  "  A  Trial  of  the  New 
Church  Way  in  New  England  and  in  Old."  The  first  copy  of 
this  reply,  sent  in  1C40,  having  miscarried,  another  was  pre- 
pared, which,  afler  much  delay,  finally  came  to  hand  about  the 
year  1644.  The  mauifolil  errors  rcspectiiig  the  eecleaiastiL-al 
polity  of  our  fathers,  and  the  gross  misrepresentations  of  ihc 
principles  and  practices  of  these  churches,  which  this  book  con- 
tained, induced  Mr.  Shepard,  with  the  cooperation  of  Air.  Allen, 
of  Dedham,  to  attempt  a  thorough  discussion  of  these  points, 
which  he  did  in  an  elaborate  treatise,  entitled  "  A  Defense  of 
the  Answer  made  unto  (he  Nine  Que.^tions  or  Positions  sent 
from  New  England,  against  tlie  liepty  thei-eto  by  that  Reverend 
Servant  of  Christ,  Mr.  John  Ball,  entitled  ■  A  Trial  of  the  New 
Church  Way  in  New  England  and  in  Old;'  wherein,  besides  a 
more  full  Opening  of  sundiy  Particulars  concerning  Liturgies, 
Power  of  the  Keys,  Matter  of  the  Visible  Church,  etc.,  is  more 
largely  handled  that  Controversy  cont^ming  the  Catholic 
Church ;  tending  to  clear  up  the  Old  Way  of  Christ  in  New 


;PAI(D.  clix 

England  Cliiirclies."  Tlie  first  edition  of  this  book  mas  printed 
at  I/ondon.  in  lli'18.  Inn  subsequent  edition, printed  in  16d3,  this 
long  nn<t  cumbrous  title  was  abridged,  and  the  name  of  Mr.  Allen 
omillcd,  while  the  preface  is  subscribed  with  both  names,  as  in 
the  first  edition.* 

In  this  treatise,  &fr.  Shepard  expluns  and  defends  the  viewa'^/^ 
of  onr  New  England  fathers,  respecting  the  worship  and  dis- 
cipline of  the  church,  with  extraordinary  learning,  ability,  and 
acuteness.  Mr.  Hooker,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Shepard,  written 
About  the  time  that  the  Questions  made  their  appearance,  had 
expressed  the  fear  "  that  the  first  and  second  questions,  touching 
ft  staled  form  of  prayer,"  would  "  prove  very  hard  to  make  any 
luuidsome  work  upon  ;"  and  that  "  a  troublesome  answer  might 
be  returned  lo  all  the  arguraenls."  The  answer  to  the  Nine 
Positians  had  admitted  that  a  form  of  prayer  is  not  in  itself  un- 
lawful ;  and  Mr.  Hooker  feared,  (bat,  in  defending  this  admission, 
Ur.  Shepard  would  expose  himself  and  bis  brethren  to  (he  charge 
of  isoonsislency. 

Notwithstanding  Mr.  Hooker's  fears  and  forebodings  Mr. 
Shepard  succeeded  in  making  very  "  handsome  work  "  upon  oil 
the  points  respecting  which  the  author  of  the  letter  required 
Wttsfaction ;  and  gave  an  answer  to  Mr.  Ball's  reply,  which,  so 
far  from  involving  the  Congregational ists  in  difficulty,  was  (ho 
means  of  silencing  the  objections  which  had  been  made  against 
them,  and  of  satisfying  the  English  brethren  that  their  position 
was  impregnable.  He  shows  clearly  that  what  Mr.  Ball  had 
■tignuitixed  as  "  A  New  Church  Way "  was  in  truth  no  other 
than  the  "old  church  way  of  godly  reformers;"  that  "the  mend- 
ing of  some  crooks  in  an  old  way  "  does  not  make  a  new  road ; 
and  that,  in  the  constitution  of  ilie  New  England  churches,  both 
with  respect  to  worship  and  discipline,  the  true  scriptural  jnodel 
hod  been  constantly  kept  in  view. 

On  the  subject  of  a  Liturgy,  there  was  a  slight  shade  of  diflTer- 
«nca  between  Mr.  Shepard  and  his  father-in-law.     Mr.  Hooker 

*  Uubary'g  Uiilorical  Memorkli,  iil,  33. 


thought  it  would  be  bctit^r  to  maintni>i  that  "  nil  nvl  forms  tire  un- 
lawful, either  in  public  or  in  privntu,"  than  to  ilcfi^nd  Mr.  Cot- 
ton's pwilion.  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Sliepard,  tie  says,  "  Air.  Ball, 
I  suppose,  haih  a  right  and  li'uc  eause  to  defend  in  the  former 
part  of  his  book,  and  handles  it  well ;  and  though  I  think  it 
m»y  receive  another  rttturo,  because  there  is  some  room  for  a 
reply,  yet  if  he  iiit  it  in  that,  I  suppose  the  next  rejoin  will 
siltnice.  Only  I  confess,  I  liad  rather  defend  the  cause  upon  this 
Bupposal  —  that  all  set  forms  are  unlawful  either  in  publie  or  in 
private,  than  to  retire  to  that  defense  of  Mr.  Cotton's ;  that  it  is 
lawful  to  use  a  form  in  private,  or  occasionally  in  public,  but  not 
ordinarily ;  for,  to  my  small  conceit,  be  doth  in  such  a  distinction 
tradtre  cauaam,  and  ihHt  fully.  For  if  I  may  use  a  form  in 
private,  then  a  form  hath  not  the  essence  of  an  image  in  it, 
Hgfunst  the  second  commandment,  for  that  is  not  to  be  used  at 
all ;  then  a  slated  form  is  not  opposite  to  the  pure  worship  in 
spirit  and  truth,  fur  then  it  should  not  he  used  in  private ;  then 
to  bring  in  a  book  for  the  perfor 
bring  in  an  altar,  for  that  would  he  u 
if  lawful  to  use  a  printed  prayer  i 
essentials  of  true  prayer ;  tlien  it 
with  preaching  a  printed  sermon,  oi 

neither  of  these  have  the  essentials  of  preaching :  hence  a 
may  exercise  the  gift  of  prayer,  and  the  graces  of  the  Spirit  in 
so  praying,  because  it  is  a  lawful  prayer."  *     .     .     . 

Mr.  Shepard,  without  discussing  the  iiucstion  whether  all  furms 
of  prayer,  under  all  circumstances,  are  unlawful,  declares  that 
this  was  not  the  question  upon  which  the  Congregationalists 
separated  from  Uic  church  of  England.  It  was  the  particular 
Liturgy  of  that  church,  —  which  "was  the  same  that  was  in 
Popery  for  substance,"  having  been  "  gathered  out  of  the  Mass 
Book,"  which  required  many  unscriptural  ceremonies  and  idola- 
trous gestures,  —  which  was  never  commanded  by  God,  but  im- 
posed upon  the  churuh  by  the  "  insolent  tyranny  of  the  usurping 


of  this  duty  is  not  to 
ilawful  in  private.     Again : 

private,  then  bath  it  the 
a   not  of  the  same  nature 

reading  a  homily,  because 


n'n  MS.  P«p«r«,  vol.  L 


LIFE  or  THOUAg   SHEPARD. 


clxi 


prelalcf," —  which  had  been  "greatlj  abused  unio  iiioUlry  and 
SI){>er$tFlioa,"  —  which  mode  every  pan  of  its  complex  service  a 
matter  of  life  and  death, —  nliich  was  uplield  and  eoforccd  bjr  / 
the  whole  physical  jwwer  of  the  stale,  —  it  \iasthis  Liturgy  ihri*' 
they  retwnnced  and  condemned  as  a  comipl  service  book,  which 
had  been  too  lon^  tolerated  in  the  English  churches.  Mr.  Ball 
had  made  a  false  is$ue  in  discussing  the  lawfulness  of  forms  of 
prayer  in  general,  while  the  whole  controversy  turned  upon  the 
fulness  of  submitting  to  this  particular  Liturgy.  "  All  of  QS 
.eould  not  concur,"  e&js  Ur.  Shepard,  "  to  condemn  all  set  forma 
H  unlawful ;  yet  we  could  in  this,  namely,  that  though  aomc  set 
Ibmis  may  be  lawfuL  yet  it  will  not  follow  that  this  of  the  Eng- 
bb  Liturgy  b."  It  became  necessary,  therefore,  to  "  distinguish 
forms,  and  so  touch  the  true  Helena  of  litis  controversy  ;  and 
therefore  if  any  shall  observe  Mr.  Bull's  large  defense  of  set 
I  in  general,  they  shall  find  those  wingn  spread  forth  in  a 
very  great  breadlU  to  give  some  shelter  and  wartnlh  to  Ibat  par- 
ticular Lilnrgy  then  bnguishing,  and  hastening,  through  age  and 
feebleness,  toward  its  last  end."  " 

With  respect  to  the  discipline  of  the  New  England  churches,     / 
Hr.  Shepard  clearly  distinguishes  Congregationalism  from  Brown-  v 
{pt  Independency,)  on  the  one  hand,  and  from  Presbyterian-  ^ 
M  the  other.     Browniam,  he  shows,  places  the  entire  govern-  ^ 
'.  of  the  church  in  the  hands  of  the  people,  and  drowns  the 
Toice  of  the  paslon  in  a  major  vote  of  the  brethren,  who  were 
content,    aa  AVard  of  Ijiswich  wittily  ol>served,  ihut  the  eldera 
■bould  "  sit  in  the  saddle,  if  they  might  hold  the  bridle."     Pres- 
fcyterianism,  on  the  contrary,  commits  the  whole  power  of  disci- 
^ine  to  the  presbytery  of  each  church,  or  to  the  common  presby- 
tery of  many  churchee  combined   together  by  mutual  consent,  y 
Aaa  swallowing  up  the  interests  of  the  people  of  every  congre- 
gation   in    [he    majority  of    the    presbyteries :    while,   in    tlia 
orgBoixalion  of  the  Congregational  churches,  both  extremes  are    1 1 
here  ihown  to  be  avoided  by  a  wi^e  and  judicious  distribution  of 

*  Defense  of  Xine  I'o^ltioni,  rh.  i\ ,  paiiim. 


clxii  LIFE   OP  THOMAS   SHK1-ARI>. 

power  into  different  bands,  which  neither  subjects  the  people 
to  the  arbitrary  decision  of  the  pmiors,  nor  merges  the  nuibor- 
ity  of  the  pastors  in  the  will  of  the  majority.* 

Mr.  Shcjiard  here  distinguishes  between  the  power  and  the 
txeeution  of  discipline  —  the  point  upon  which  Mr.  Buckley 
requested  information  in  ihe  letler  wUich  has  been  nlrendy  re- 
ferred to.  It  belongs  to  the  brethren,  or  body  of  the  chun'h.  to 
L  censure  an  offending  brolber  by  admonition,  suspension,  or 
excommunication,  as  iiis  offense  may  require  ;  but  in  bundling 
offenses  before  the  cburcb,  it  is  the  prerogative  of  the  pastor  to 
declare  ilie  counsel  and  will  of  God  respecting  the  matter,  and 
to  pronounce  sentence  by  the  authority  of  Christ  with  the  consent 
of  the  brethren.t     "Wo  distinguish,"  says  Mr.  Shepard,  "be- 

itween  power  and  authority.  There  is  a  power,  right,  or  privi- 
lege which  is  not  authority,  properly  so  called.  Tbe  first  is  in 
the  whole  church,  by  whic^h  they  have  right  to  choose  officers, 
receive  members,  etc.  Aulborily,  properly  so  called,  we  ascribe 
only  lo  ihe  otficera,  under  Christ,  lo  rule  and  govern,  whom  the 
church  must  obey."  X 

It  was  falsely  imputed  to  the  Congregationalisls,  he  says,  that 
they  "set  up  a  popular  government,  making  the  elders  of  the 
church  no  more  but  moderators,  and  that  ministers  received  their 
power  from  the  people,  were  their  servants,  and  administered  in 
their  name,  when  we  oft  profess  the  contrary  —  ibat  all  authority, 
properly  so  called,  is  in  the  bunds  of  the  elders,  and  the  liberty 
of  tbe  people  is  lo  be  carried  in  a  way  of  subjection  and  obedience 
to  them  in  tbe  Lord."  S  The  olfice  of  ibe  pastor,  as  be  describes 
it  in  another  place,  "  is  the  immediate  inatilutioa  ol'  Christ ;  tbe 
gifts  and  the  power  belonging  thereto  are  from  Christ  imme- 
diately, and  therefore  he  ministers  in  his  name,  and  must  give 
account  to  him  ;  and  yet  his  outward  call  to  this  office,  whereby 
he  hath  authority  to  administer  the  holy  things  of  Christ  to  the 

Defenae  of  Nine  Posiliona,  ch.  xiv. *S. 

]  Cambridge  PI«ironn,  ch.  x.  -  — ^ 

t  Defenie  of  Nice  Posilioni,  p.  129. 

(  Prsfac*  VI  I>i!fi.-ni.e  of  Nine  Poiilioni,  p.  13. 


LIFE  ov  THOius  SHBPARu.  dxiii 


church,  is  from  Cliriat  by  hia  church ;  and  ibis  mnkes  bim  do 
more  the  e«rviint  of  the  church  Ehan  a  captAin,  bj  leave  of  the 
general,  chosen  by  the  band  of  soldiers,  h  the  servant  of  his  band." 
*■  If,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  "  the  power,  privilege,  and  liberty  of 
the  people  be  rightly  distinguished  from  the  authority  of  the  olli- 
oeni,  as  it  ouglii,  a  dim  »ight  may  easily  perceive  how  the  exe- 

on  of  tlie  keys,  by  the  officers  authoritatively,  may  stand 
with  the  libeniea  of  the  people  in  their  place,  obediently  follow- 
,  ing  and  concurring  with  their  guides,  so  long  as  they  go  along 
with  Christ  their  King,  and  his  laws  ;  and  cleuving  in  their  obe- 
dience to  Christ,  and  dissenting  frmn  their  guides,  only  when 
they  forsiike  Christ  in  their  administnitions.  If  there  need  any 
ocular  demouilration  hereof,  it  is  at  hand  in  all  civil  adminis- 
trations wherein  the  execution  of  laws  and  of  justice  is  in 
the  bands  of  the  judges,  and  the  privilege,  power,  or  liberty  of 
the  people  in  the  hands  of  jurors.     Both  sweully  concur  in  every 

i,  both  civil  and  criminal.  Neither  is  the  use  of  a  jury  only 
to  lind  the  fact  done,  or  not  done,  —  as  some  answer  this  instance, 
—  but  also  (he  nature  and  degree  of  ihc  fact,  in  reference  to  the 
law  that  awards  answerable  punishments ;  as,  whether  the  fuel 
be  simple  theft  or  burglary,  murder  or  manslaughter,  etc ; 
■nd  so  in  cases  of  damages,  costs  in  civil  cases,  etc. ;  whereby  it 
appears  that,  alihough  the  [tower  and  privilege  of  the  people  be 
great,  yet  the  execution,  authoritatively,  may  be  wholly  in  the 
flificers."  *  From  these  principles  it  followed,  as  the  pUtform 
afWrward  dcclnred,  that  all  church  acts  proceed  after  the  man-  -^ 
•rr  of  a  mixed  adraini^tralion,  in  such  a  way  that  no  church  act 
ean  bo  regarded  as  valid  without  the  consent  of  both.f 

Every  thing,  in  short,  ncces.iary  to  n  clear  understanding  of 
die  discipline  and  order  of  the  early  New  England  churches,  b 

Joined  and  vindicated  in  this  treatise,  with  a  degree  of  learu- 
■  ing  Hod  ability  unsurpassed  in  any  work  of  our  Puritan  fathers ; 
no  one  can  read  it  attentively  without  assigning  to  its  authors 

•  Defenifl  of  Nine  Posilioni,  pp.  lao,  131 
I  CuuLn4)[«i'laUurm,  cb.x 


dxiv  LIPK    OF  TnOUAS    SHEPAKD. 

a  higli  jiliice  nmong  llie  conlroversial  writers  of  that  age.  The 
estimation  iu  which  ihis  work  was  held  by  Mr.  Sliepard's  con- 
temporaries may  be  inferred  from  a  single  sentence  in  Cotton's 
eloquent  Latin  Preface  to  Norton's  Ansn-cr  lo  ApoUonius,  writ* 
ten  in  1645,  and  printed  at  London  in  1648.  Al^cr  !^peiiking  of 
the  labors  of  Hooker,  Davenport,  and  Mather  with  high  eom- 
tnendalion,  lie  refers  lo  Shepaid  and  Allen,  as  men  of  eminent 
piety,  distinguished  fur  erudition,  nnd  powerful  preachers,  who 
had  accomplished  a  great  work  for  the  cliun^h,  by  happily  solv- 
ing some  of  the  abstrusest  points  of  ecclesiastical  discipline  in  tlie 
answer  to.  Ball ;  and  whose  argumenli',  uttered  in  the  spirit  of 
piety,  truth,  and  the  love  of  Christ,  were  adapted  to  concitialfl 
opposers,  and  recommend  the  order  of  our  churches  to  all 
renders,* 

Upon  the  principles  bo  ably  unfolded  and  defended  in 
this  treatise,  and  in  others  already  referred  to,  although 
not  digested  into  a  system,  nor  formally  adopted,  the  cliurclies 
of  Ma.ssacliu3etts  were  founded,  and  all  ecclesiastical  affairs  con- 
duded,from  the  time  of  Mr.  Cotton's  arrival,  in  1683,  until  the 
adoption  of  the  Cambridge  Platform  in  1648.  Mr.  Shepard's 
personal  agency  in  the  production  of  this  digest  of  the  principles 
and  uses  of  the  churches  does  not  appear  very  clearly  in  the  history 


*  Srjiliarcdus  (qui  rernnrulo  idiumato  Slicpardus)  una  cum  Atlcnia 
fralrc,  rrairum  dulcc  par,  uti  CKimin  pii:latu  florenl  nmliu,  et  vrudiiione  non 
mBdiocri,  Btqni;  oliam  oivaieriorum  pEclalis  prfedicalione  (per  ClirUli 
gratiam)  cfflcafi  admodum,  its  cgrcgiain  navnrunt  opcraro  in  abslrusijaiini* 
discipline  ncidis  rdiciter  cnodandia:  et  dum  rei  aponaum  parent,  alque 
nunc  etiam  edunl  Domino  Baleo,  hod  illi  quidom  aaliafikclam  eunt  (nai 
sMia  jam  aperte  videl  in  beatilica.  A^i  Tisioue,  iutroilas  omnes  if^us 
Gxitns,  formu  et  leges  culeBlia  Ilienisalem)  led  iii  omnihua,  qui  per  univcr- 
■am  Brilanninm  in  ei-clealia  ChrUti  peregrinaulur,  et  rei  disci  pi  inariie  atudi- 
oaiu*  appellernnc  Verba  horum  fratrum  nti  insTiler  apiraat  pietnlem, 
veritatem,  cliuritalcm  Cliriali ;  its  speramna  fore,  (p«r  Cbriati  graliain,)  nt 
DiDlli  qni  a  disciplina  Cliritii  alieuiores  enuit,  odon:  horum  nnguenlomnl 
Chrisli  effusonim  dclibati  atqne  delincti,  ad  amorem  ejus  el  pellcpii  cl  ptr- 
tracti,  cam  avidias  accipiant,  alque  amplexenttu'. 


I-IFE   OP  THOMAS   BHEPARD.  clzv 

of  those  times ;  but  there  are  several  circumstances  from  which 
ve  maj  reaaonahly  infer  that  it  was  rerj  great.  It  haa  already 
been  stated  that  Mr.  Shepurd  wiis  at  Hartford  in  1G44,  and  laid 
^fore  the  conmiisgioDers  for  the  united  colonies,  who  met  there 
at  that  time,  a  memorial  touching  some  provision  to  be  made  for 
■ndigent  students  in  Harvard  College.  Now.  it  bo  happened, 
[  that  meeting  of  the  commissioners,  the  idea  of  a  public 
confession  of  faith,  and  a  plan  of  church  government,  to  be  ap- 
proved by  the  churches  in  a  general  syntxl,  and  published  as  a 
book  of  doctrine  and  discipline,  was,  so  far  as  we  know,  first 
■u^ested  and  discussed.*  Nothiog  is  more  probable  than  that 
Ur.  Shepard  suggested  this  plan  to  the  commissioners,  and  urged 
ihcm  to  adopt  some  meaiture  by  which  it  could  be  properly 
brought  before  the  court  and  the  churches. 

Be  this,  however,  as  it  may,  the  commissioners  at  that  time 
uunk  the  first  step  toward  the  convocation  of  the  synod  which  ^ 
produced  the  Cambridge  Flatfonn,  by  agreeing  to  lay  this  sub-  (/ 
ject  before  the  l^neral  Court  of  Massachusetts.  Accordingly, 
in  the  year  1646,  a  bill  was  brought  into  the  General  Court  for 
calling  a  synod,  to  accomplish  the  end  proposed  by  the  conunis- 
nooers.  The  magistrates  readily  passed  the  ImII  ;  but  there 
was  a  question  among  the  deputies  whether  tlie  court  could  le- 
^ly  require  the  churches  to  send  their  pastors  and  delegates  to 
■orb  a  synod  ;  and  a  fear  was  expressed  that  if  the  civil  authority 
•boukl  thus  interpose  in  ecclesiastical  matters,  a  precedent  might 
be  established  which  would  justify  the  court  in  attempting  to  en- 
fonw  upon  the  chur«he«  a  uniformity  entirely  subvereive  of  Ciiris-i 
tiuo  liberty.  It  was  also  objected  that  the  sole  purpose  of  the 
proposed  synod  was  to  construct  a  platform  of  discipline  for  all 
the  churches,  to  be  reported  to  the  General  Court  for  its  approval, 
which  seemed  to  imply  that  either  the  court  or  the  synod  liad 
power  to  compel  the  churches  to  practice  what  should  be  thus  es> 
tabli»hed  and  recommended.  In  view  of  these  objections,  and 
from  deference  to  the  fears  of  those  deputies  who  offered  them, 

•  HasMd's  Bute  Pipwi,  U.  M. 


Clivi  LIFE    OP    THOMAS 

il  was  finally  ordered  that  Iho  synod  should  be  culled  by  way 
of  a  recominendttlion,  and  not  of  a  command,  addressed  to 
the  churches.* 

Mr.  Hooker,  writing  to  Mr.  Shepard  respecting  the  great  ob- 
ject of  this  synod,  expresses  his  views  of  the  plan,  and  his  fears 
leet  the  authority  of  the  magialraie  and  the  binding  power  of 
synods  should  be  pressed  too  far. 

"  Deab  Son  :  We  are  now  preparing  for  your  synod.  My 
years  and  infirmities  grow  so  fast  upon  roe,  that  they  wholly  dis- 
enable to  so  long  a  journey ;  and  because  I  can  not  come 
myself,  I  provoke  as  many  elders  as  I  can  to  lend  their  help  and 
presence.  My  brother  Stone  and  my  cousin  Slehbings  come 
from  our  church,  and  I  think  the  rest  of  the  elders  of  the 
river  will  accompany  them.  The  Lord  Christ  be  in  the  midst 
among  you  by  his  guidance  and  blessing.  ...  I  have  returned, 
and  do  renew  thanks  for  the  letter  and  copy  of  the  passages  of 
the  synod.  I  wish  there  may  not  be  a  misunderslonding  of  some 
things  by  some,  or  that  the  binding  power  of  synods  be  not 
pressed  too  much.  For  —  I  speak  it  only  to  yourself —  he  that  ad- 
ventures far  in  that  business  will  find  hot  and  hard  work,  or  else 
my  perspective  may  fail,  which  I  confess  may  be :  roy  eyes  grow 
dim.  I  could  easily  give  way  to  arguments  that  urge  the  help 
of  a  synod  to  counsel ;  hut  a^  for  more,  I  find  no  trouble  in  my 
thoughts  to  answer  all  I  ever  yet  heard  propounded.  I  find  Mr. 
Butherford  and  Apotlonius  to  give  somewhat  sparingly  to  the 
place  of  the  magistrate  to  put  forth  power  in  the  calling  of  syn- 
ods J  wherein  I  perceive  they  go  cross  lo  some  of  our  most  se- 
rious and  judicious  writers;  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  they  cross 
their  own  principles  sometimes.  I  confess  I  am  apt  to  give  too 
much  to  the  supreme  magistrat«  in  some  men's  thoughts,  and 
I  give  not  much  lo  the  church's  authority.  However,  I  shall  not 
trouble  you  with  my  thoughts  ;  ^ut  bene  latvtt  bene  tnxit.  I  could 
have  wished  that  none  of  the  copies  sent  to  us  had  been  sent  to 

•  Hnbbard'i  Hist,  N.  Eng.  ch.  S8. 


LlFll   or   TIIOMAS    SKEFARD. 

Eagland ;  ihe  reason  my  brother  Slnne  will  relule  when  he  sees 
you  ;  fur  it  ia  too  large,  and  not  so  sale  to  commit  to  paper.  The 
blessing  of  Heaven  be  with  you. 

■'  EntKat  Mr.  Eliot  to  send  me  some  grnfts  of  a  great  yellow 
■pple  he  hath,  which  I  liked  exceedingly  when  I  was  with  him 
the  last  time.  7'oliii  luus, 

T,  HooKEn."  • 

The  synod  met  at  Cambridge  in  the  autumn  of  the  year  1 616  ; 
linl  so  late  in  rhe  season,  and  so  few  of  the  pastors  incited  from  X 
the  oilier  iKttonies  were  able  to  be  present,  that,  aficr  a  session  of 
fourteen  days,  it  was  adjourned  10  the  8th  day  of  June  of  the 
following  year,  1647. 

They  met  according  to  a<)joumment ;  bat  nt  the  time  of  meet* 
ing  a  great  siclinesB  was  prevailing  in  the  country,  and  it  was 
•gain  adjourned  to  the  SOth  of  September,  1G48.  At  this  meet- 
ing of  the  synod,  the  confession  of  faith,  and  plalfonn  of  church  X 
government,  after  thorough  discussion,  were  adopted  and  laid 
before  the  General  Court  for  tlieir  approval ;  and  the  court,  at  its 
next  scsMon,  formally  accepted  and  approved  the  platform,  de- 
elaring  that  it  was  what  the  churches  had  hitherto  practiced; 
and,  in  their  judgment,  as  to  its  essentijd  principles,  altogether  in 
accordance  with  the  word  of  God.  Thus  the  Cambridge  Plat- 
form became  a  part  of  the  laws  and  usages  of  the  commonwealth 
of  Mas«acliusells,  and,  tor  substance,  is  still  followed  by  llie  Con- 
gregational churches  throughout  New  England. 

Of  this  work  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  speak  too  highly.  It 
wai  Ihe  production  of  men  distinguished  for  preeminent  talenta, 
learning,  and  piety, —  for  their  sacrittces  and  sufferings  in  the 
cause  of  religious  liberty, -7-  and  for  their  untiring  «ea!  for  the 
prosperity  of  the  church ;  and,  as  a  whole,  may  be  pronounced 
tlie  most  scriptural  and  excellent  model  of  church  government 
-which  has  been  framed  since  llic  time  of  the  apostles.  The 
fathers  of  New  England,  both  civil   and  religious,  regarded  it, 

•  Uuchiuon'iMS.  Papcn,  voL  i. 


elxvtii  LIFE   OP   THOUAS   HUEPABD. 

aiiJ  the  authors  of  it,  with  extrnordinary  respect ;  and  if  in  these 
days  there  are  any  who  profess  lo  hold  it  in  slight  estimalion,  it 
ia  because  thej  are  either  uiiitc<]uainted  with  its  real  eiiaracler, 
or  have  forsaken  the  fuilli  and  order  of  the  Puritans.  "  We  who 
saw  the  persons,  who,  from  our  famous  colonies,  assembled  in  the 
eynod  llint  agreed  upon  the  Platform  of  Church  Discipline,"  — 
Hiicli  is  the  language  of  Higginson  and  Hubbard,  near  the  close 
of  that  century,  —  "can  not  forget  their  excellent  character. 
They  were  of  great  renown  in  ihe  nation  from  which  the  Laud- 
ian  persecution  exiled  thera,  Their  learning,  their  hohness, 
their  gravity  struck  all  men  with  admiration.  They  were 
Timothys  in  iheir  houses,  Chrysostoins  in  their  pulpits,  Augus- 
tines  in  their  dispulations.  The  prayers,  the  studies,  the  humble 
inquiries,  with  which  they  sought  after  the  mind  of  God,  were  aa 
likely  to  prosper  as  any  meo's  on  earth.  And  tiie  sufferings 
wherein  they  were  confessors  for  the  name  and  the  truth  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  add  unto  the  arguments  which  would  persuade 
us  that  our  gracious  Lord  would  reward  and  honor  ihem  with 
communicating  much  of  his  truth  unlo  them.  The  famous 
Brighlman  had  foretold  that  GoA  would  yet  reveal  more  of  the 
true  church  state  to  some  of  his  faithful  servants,  whom  he 
would  send  into  the  wildemega,  that  he  might  have  communion 
with  them  ;  and  it  was  eminently  accomplished  in  what  was 
done  for  and  by  the  men  of  God  that  flrgt  erected  churches  for 
him  in  this  American  wilderness."  * 

If  the  ecclesiastical  principles,  so  clearly  developed  in  the  plat- 
form, were  solemnly  reaitirmed  by  a  body,  which,  like  the  synod 
that  formed  it,  should  represent  ttie  Congregational  churches  of 
New  England,  and  this  book  —  with  such  modifications  as  time 
and  change  have  rendered  necessary  —  were  universally  re- 
ceived as  authorilalive  in  respect  to  church  discipline,  many 
growing  evils  might,  perhaps,  receive  a  check,  and  Ihe  unity  and 
strength  of  our  denomination  be  greatly  promoted.  Such  a 
movement,  devoutly  to  be  wished  by  all  who  love  the  institutions 

*  Uigginagn's  luid  tlnbbwd't  TMlimony  lo  the  Order  of  the  Churches. 


V 


LIFE   OV    rUOMAS   8IIKPAUO.  clxiX 

of  the  Puritans,  may  possibly  find  lavor  with  the  churchcB  ;  and 
Cambridge,  the  ancieDt  place  of  synods,  may  again  nitoees  a  gath- 
ering like  that  of  1648.  In  the  mean  time,  the  more  closely  we 
adhere  to  the  scheme  of  ecclesiastical  polity  set  forth  by  tbat 
venerable  assembly,  ibe  more  confidently  may  ve  expect  that 
Congregational iGm  will  maiataio  its  ascendency  in  New  England, 
and  commend  itself  to  the  consciences  and  the  hearta  of  inlelli- 
geat  ChriBtians  throughout  our  country. 

tVliile  Mr.  Shepard  was  tbus  engaged  in  labors  abundant  and 
fruitful  for  the  advancement  of  the  great  work  which  he  and  his 
noble  associntes  came  into  "  these  ends  of  the  earth  "  lo  do,  ho 
ns  visited  by  an  unexpected  and  grievous  calamity.  On  the 
Sd  day  of  April,  1646,  the  Lord  gave  him  nnnrhpr  inn,  but  took  i 
^waj  his  "  most  dear,  precious,  meek,  and  loving  wife,  tu  child- 
Bp^^f^  three  weeks  lying  in,"  leaving  him  again  desolate  in  his 
lpd|i^  Urs.  Sbepard,  from  all  that  can  be  learnt  of  her,  seems 
^knn  been  worthy  of  the  tender  epithets  which  her  bereaved 
luuband  here  bestows  upon  her.  She  was  evidently  a  woman 
•f  superior  oiind  and  attainments,  of  great  prudence,  of  an 
exceedingly  amiable  dispoaiiion,  and  of  eminent  piety.  "  Tins 
affliction,"  says  Mr.  Shepard,  "  was  very  great.  She  was  a  wo- 
man of  incomparable  meekness  of  spirit,  toward  myself  espedal- 
ly,  and  very  loving:  of  great  prudence  to  care  for  and  order 
ny  family  affairs,  being  neither  too  lavish  nor  sordid  tn  any 
thing,  so  thai  I  knew  not  what  was  under  her  band.  .  .  .  Tlia 
Lord  hath  mode  her  a  great  blessing  to  me  lo  carry  on  matters 
In  lli«  family  with  much  care  and  wisdom.  .  .  .  She  had 
an  cRCellency  Ui  reprove  for  sin,  and  discern  the  evils  of  men. 
She  loved  God's  people  dearly,  and  was  studious  to  profit  by 
their  fellowship,  and  therefore  loved  their  company.  She  loved 
;  God's  word  exceedingly,  and  hence  she  was  glud  she  could  read 
<-tBJ  notes,  which  she  bad  lo  muse  on  every  week.  She  had  a 
apirit  of  prayer  beyond  ordinary  of  her  time  and  experience. 
8be  waj  St  to  die  long  before  she  did  die,  even  after  the  death 
tt  her  first  born,  which  was  a  great  aJUiction  lo  her.  But  her 
■rork  not  being  done  then,  she  Uved  almost  nine  years  with  me, 


Clxs  LIKE    OP   THOMAS   SUBPARD. 

and  tvaa  the  comfort  of  my  life  to  me  ;  and  the  last  sacrament 
before  her  lying  in  seemed  to  be  full  of  Christ,  and  thereby  fitted 
for  heaven.  She  did  oft  say  she  should  not  outlive  this  child  ; 
aad  when  her  fever  first  begun,  by  taking  some  cold,  she  told  me 
that  we  should  love  one  another  exceedingly,  because  we 
should  not  live  long  together.  Her  fever  took  away  her  sleep  ; 
want  of  sleep  wrought  much  distemper  io  her  head,  and  filled  it 
with  fantasies  and  distractions,  but  without  raging.  The  night 
before  she  died,  she  had  about  six  hours'  unquiet  sleep.  But 
that  so  cooled  and  settled  her  head,  that  when  she  knew  none 
else,  so  as  to  speak  to  ihem,  yet  she  knew  Jesus  Christ,  and 
could  speak  to  him ;  and  therefore,  as  soon  as  she  awakeneil  out 

of  sleep,   she  bcokc   out    into    a    nii>Bt    hoovonly,   hoart-bruaking 

prayer  after  Christ,  her  dear  Hedeemer,  for  the  Spirit  of  life,  and 
so  coniinued  praying,  to  the  lost  hour  of  her  death,  '  Lord,  though 
I  am  unworthy,  one  word  —  one  word,'  etc,  and  so  gave  up  the 
ghost.  Thus  the  Lord  hath  visited  and  scourged  me  for  my 
.  sins,  and  sought  to  wean  me  from  this  world.  But  I  have  ever 
found  it  a  ditHcult  thing  to  profit  even  but  a  little  by  the  sorest 
and  sharpest  afflictions." 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

Itidiui  mission.  —  Establishmeat  of  an  ladlka  lecture  >1  Cambridgs.  —  Mr. 
Shtipard's  inlorcst  in  the  Indian  misaion. —  "Clear  ■nnBhine,*'  —  Mr. 
Shepard  maTries  Margaret  Boradel.  —  SidLnes*  and  death.  —  Last  will. 
—  Mr.  Shopard'g  preaching.  —  Opinion  of  contimpornrics  respecting  his 
osBfulncBs.  —  Character  of  Mr.  Shepard'a  writings.  —  Objections  agaiaal 
some  of  bra  practical  works  anawcrcd. —  Letter  to  Giles  Fcrmin.  —  Opin- 
ion of  several  dirtnes  respecting  Mr.  Shepard's  works.  —  Personal  reli- 
gion. —  Conclusion, 

The  labors  and  influence  of  Mr.  Shepard,  and  of  those  good 
men  with  whom  he  was  associated,  were  directed  chiefly,  as  has 
been  seen  in  the  foregoing  chaplerB,  to  the  occompiishmeut  of 
their  first  great  underinking,  which  was  to  found  a  truly  Chris- 


IFE   OF  TBOHAS    SHEPARD.  dxid 

titui  commonweallh  in  New  Englaad,  where  tlie;f  and  their 
pMteritj  jnight  enjoy  civil  and  religious  freedom.  But  they 
did  not  forget  or  neglect  anolher  important  work,  wliicb  was  to 
preach  the  gospel  to  the  notiTea  of  this  country,  and  to  bring  these  '  i 
poor  outcasts  lo  the  knowledge  of  God.  3Iany  persons  ignorant  j 
of  the  history  of  those  timei^  and  disposed  to  find  fault  with  our 
fiuhiT!,  not  only  with  but  without  CHUse,  have  severely  censured 
them  for  what  has  been  called  their  unjust  and  cruel  treatment  of 
poor  Indians,  iheir  uttiT  neglect  of  the  wants,  both  temporal 
ftnd  spiritual,  of  the  original  owners  of  the  soil,  whom  they  vio- 
knlly  expelled,  and  the  selfishnesa  which  characterized  all  iheir 
treutmeat  of  those  to  whom  they  owed  their  coroforlablo  home 
on  these  shores.  ThU  is  not  Ibe  place  for  the  defense  of  the 
eolonists  from  this  charge,  or  for  the  history  of  early  Indian  - 
missions  in  New  England.  That  work  belongs  appropriately 
to  the  Life  of  Eliot,  the  "  Apostle  to  the  Indians."  The  only 
object  in  referring  to  the  subject  here  is,  lo  show  how  deeply 
Ur.  .Shepard  was  interested  in  all  eHbrts  to  civilise  and  Chris-.y 
ttaniie  the  natives  of  Massachusetts.  It  will  suffice  to  say — and 
the  facts  will  warrant  the  assertion  —  that  the  government  and 
the  churches  of  this  state,  in  their  deep  poverty  and  innumerable 
hindcrances,  did  very  much  — as  much,  probably,  in  proportion 
to  their  ability  —  for  the  propagation  of  the  gospel  among  the 
Indiiuis  on  this  part  of  the  continent,  as  is  done  now,  with  all 
our  means,  for  the  conversion  of  the  heathen  abroad  or  at  home- 
It  is  a  fact  which  will  ever  be  remembered  to  the  glory  of  God, 
■ad  to  ihe  praise  of  our  fathers,  that  the  first  Protestant  mission 
to  the  heathen,  since  the  time  of  the  apostles,  was  commenced' 
among  the  Indians  in  the  town  of  Cambridge  in  Massachusetts ;  I 
and  that  the  first  translation  of  the  Bible  by  an  Anglo-Saxon  J 
Into  a  heathen  language  was  made  by  John  Kliol,  pastor  of  the 
ehurr-h  in  Koxbury,  and  printed  at  Cambridge,  where  the  tirst 
Protestant  sermon    in  a  pagan  tongue  was  delivered.     Legal 

made  by  the  government  for  the  support  of  j 
ng  these  Indians.  Schools  were  established  for  1 
itf  their  children.     Courts  were  established  for 


I 


clixii  LIFi:   Ol'  THOKAd 

the  especial  purpose  or  protecting  their  rights,  and  of  punishing 
tresposseB  against  them.  Greiit  and  good  men,  among  whom 
Eliot  and  Shepard  stand  preeminent,  devoted  themselves  lo  the 

<  difficult  vrork  of  establishing  the  institutions  of  the  gospel  among 
tbem.  and  leading  them  to  obedience  lo  the  laws  of  Christ.  A 
college  building  was  erected  at  Cambridge  expressly  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  lo  Indian  youth  a.  liberal  education,  that  tliey 
might  become  teachers,  ministers,  and  magistrates  among  their 
countrymen;  and  although  cliis  design  proved  abortive,  the  fail- 
ure was  owing  not  to  any  want  of  zeal  in  tliose  who  commenced 
it,  hut  to  the  inherent  and  insurmountable  difficulty  of  the  work 
itself.  Not  a  foot  of  land,  for  which  an  owner  could  be  found, 
vaa  ever  taken  by  the  early  settlers  without  ample  remunera- 
tion i  and  if  we  hear  of  Indian  wars,  they  were  wars  in  wjiich 
the  colonists  were  compelled  to  defend  their  lives  and  their  law- 
ful possesaions  against  the  unprovoked  attacks  of  savage  and 
relentless  foes.  It  was  one  part  of  their  original  design,  as  we 
have  said,  to  '■  advance  the  honor  of  God,  of  their  king  and 
country,  by  this  settlement,  without  injury  lo  the  native  in- 
habitants." They  meant  "  to  take  nothing  but  what  lite  Indians 
were  willing  to  dispose  of;  nor  to  interfere  with  them,  except  for 
the  maintenance  of  peace  among  them,  and  the  propagation  oi 
Christianity." 

Mr.  Shepard,  if  not  the  most  prominent  i^cnt  in  this  good 
.     work,  was  nevertheless  a  most  zealous  and  faithful  promoter  of 

/\  it.  There  was  probably  no  one,  except  Mr.  Eliot,  to  whom  the 
Indians  were  more  indebted  for  those  measures  which  concerned 
their  civil  or  their  spiritual  welfare,  The  first  missionary  station, 
I  where  Mr.  Eliot  statedly  preached  to  them,  was  fixed  at  Nonau- 
tum,  in  Cambridge,  in  the  year  1G46.  Mr.  Shepard  watched 
I  over  the  infant  church  gathered  there  with  parental  solicitude 
and  kindness.  Fie  frequently  attended  the  weekly  lecture  held 
by  Mr.  Ehot;  and  although  he  could  not  preach  in  the  Indian 
language,  yet  several  tracts,  written  by  him  for  this  purpose,  were 
translated  by  his  friend,  and  be  was  thus  enabled  to  teach  them 
the  rudiments  of  the  oracles  of  God.     And  thus  Cambridge  has 


HOUAS  sUEPAos.  cksiii 

the  honor  of  fiimiahing  not  only  the  firet  henlher  mission,  but 
the  first  Protesiant  Imct,  and  ilie  first  Protestant  translatioD 
of  ihe  Bible  in  a  heathen  huiguage. 

Mr.  Shepord  has  given  nn  interesting  account  of  the  progress 
of  the  work  in  and  about 'Cambridge,  in  a  letter  to  a  frieoil  in 
Enghind,  which  was  aflerirnrd  published  under  Ihe  title  of  "  The  ^ 
Clear  Sunshine  of  the  Gospel  breaking  forth  upon  the  Indians  '\ 
iti  New  England,"  designed  especiallj  to  describe  the  effect  of 
Ur.  Kliot'a  labors,  but  incidentally  exhibiting  his  own  interest 
ftnd  agency  in  the  mission.  During  the  winter,  he  was  confined 
ftt  home;  but  on  the  3d  of  March,  1647,  he  attended  the  Indian 
lecture,  "  where  Mr.  Wilson,  Mr.  Allen,  of  Dedhom,  Mr.  Dun- 
■ler,  beside  many  other  Christians,  were  present ;  on  which  duy, 
perceiving  divers  of  llie  Indian  women  well  affected,  and  con- 
sidering that  their  souls  might  stand  in  need  of  answers  to  their 
■cruples  as  well  as  the  men's,  we  did  therefore  desire  them  to 
propound  anj  (jueations  they  would  be  resolved  about,  by  first 
interpreter  privately  them- 
<)uegtioDS  thus  orderly  pro- 
undry  others  propounded  of 
the  Lord  Jesua  leading  them 
igs  of  God,  thut  so   they 


acquainting  their  husbands,  c 
selves :  whereupon  we  heard  I 
pounded.     At  this  time  there  we 
very  good  use ;  in  all  which  we  i 
inquiries  h 


might  see  the  reuliiy  of  them.  I-  have  beard  few  Christiaos,  when 
(hoy  begin  to  look  toward  God.  make  more  searching  questions 
that  tliey  might  see  thin^  really,  and  not  only  have  a  notion  nf 
them.  .  .  -  From  this  3d  of  March  until  the  end  of  this 
summer,  I  could  not  be  present  at  the  Indian  lectures  ;  but  when 
I  came  ilie  last  time,  I  marveled  to  sec  so  many  Indian  men,  and 
leu,  and  children  in  English  apparel ;  they  being  at  Noonanc- 
gcnerally  clad,  especially  upon  lecture  dayt,  which  they  have 
gut,  partly  by  gift,  from  the  English,  and  partly  by  Ilieirown  labors, 
by  which  some  of  them  have  very  handsomely  appareled  lliem- 
•elvea,  and  you  would  scarce  know  them  from  English  jieople. 
.  There  is  one  thing  more  which  1  would  acqutunt  you 
with,  which  happened  this  summer,  viz. :  June  9,  the  first  day  uf 
th«  ifnod's  meeting  at  Cambridge,  where  the  forenoon  was  spent 


clKXiv  LIFE    OF    THOM&S    BHKPABD. 

in  hearing  a  sermon  pre&ched  by  one  of  the  elders,  Ezekiel 
Rogers,  of  Rowley,  as  a  preparation  lo  the  work  of  tlie  sjnod. 
The  afternoon  was  spent  in  hearing  an  Indian  lecture,  where 
there  was  a  great  confluence  of  Indians  from  all  parts  to  Hear 
Mr.  Eliot ;  which  we  conceived  not  unseasonable  at  sueh  a  time, 
—  ])artly  that  the  reports  of  God's  work  beguti  among  them 
might  be  seen  and  believed  of  the  chief  who  were  then  seat,  and 
met  from  all  the  churches  of  Christ  in  llie  country,  who  could 
hardly  believe  the  reports  lliey  had  received  concerning  these 
new  stirs  among  the  Indians,  —  and  partly  hereby  to  raise  up  a 
greater  spirit  of  prayer  for  the  carrying  on  of  the  work  begun 
upon  the  Indians,  among  uU  the  churches  and  servants  of  the  Lord. 
.  .,  .  When  the  sermon  was  done,  there  was  a  coiweiuent  space 
of  time  spent  in  hearing  those  questions  which  Ihelndians  publidy 
propounded,  and  in  giving  answers  to  them.  .  .  .  That  which 
I  note  is  this :  that  ihcir  gracious  attention  to  the  word,  the  aSeo- 
tions  and  mourning  of  some  of  tlicm  under  it,  their  sober  pro- 
pounding of  divers  spiritual  questions,  their  aptness  to  under- 
stand and  believe  what  was  replied  lo  theni,  the  readiness  of 
divers  poor  nuked  children  to  answer  openly  the  chief  questions. 
in  the  catechism  which  were  formerly  taught  them,  and  such 
like  appearances  of  a  great  change  upon  them,  did  marvel- 
ouely  alfect  all  the  wise  and  godly  ministers,  magisttules,  and 
people,  and  did  raise  their  hearts  up  to  a  great  thankfulness  lo 
God ;  very  matiy  deeply  and  abundantly  mourning  for  joy,  to 
Boe  such  a  blessed  day,  and  the  Lord  Jesus  so  much  known  and 
spoken  of  among  such  as  never  heard  of  him  before."  .  .  . 
Toward  the  latter  part  of  this  year,  1G47,  &Ir.  Shepard,  lo 
gelher  with  Mr.  Eliot  and  Mi-.  Wilson,  were  invited  by  the  in- 
p,  habitants  of  Yarmouth  to  meet  with  some  of  the  elders  of  Plym- 
outh colony  for  ihc  purpose  of  settling,  if  [lossible,  a  dilGculty 
which  bad  been  of  long  standing  among  them,  and  which  threat- 
ened to  divide  and  destroy  the  church  in  that  place.  "  Where- 
in," says  Mr.  Shepard,  "  the  Lord  was  very  merciful  to  us  and 
them,  in  binding  them  up  beyond  our  thoughu  in  a  very  short 
time,  in  giving  not  only  that  bruised  church,  hut  the  whole  town 


Lira  or  tbohas  bhefakd.  cIxxt 

'•Iso,  a  hopeful  beginning  of  a  settled  peace  and  future  quieV 

M.     But  Mr.  Eliot,  a»  he  take^  all  oilier  advantages  of  times, 

be  took  this,  of  speaking  with  and  preaching  to  the  poor  In* 

£ans  in  those  remote  places  about  Cape  Cod."     "  Thus  you  have 

;,  but  somewhat  rent  and  ra^ed  relation  of  these  things  ; 

h  may  be  most  suitable  to  the  story  of  niLked  and  ragged  men. 

.     ir  any  in    England  doubt  of  llie  truth  of  what   was 

>rly  writ,  or  if  any  malignant  eye  shall  question  or  vilify 

&\a  work,  ihey  will  now  speak  too  late ;  for  wlmt  was  here  done 

Cambridge  was  not  set  under  a  bushel,  but  in  (he  open  sun. 

It  what  Thomas  would  not  believe  by  the  report  of  others,  he 

night  be  forced  to  believe  by  seeing  with  his  own  eyes,  and 

fceling  Jesus    Christ   ihue  risen    among  them   with  his    own 

iaiid."  " 

On  the  8ih  of  September,  1647,  Mr,   Shepard  married,  for 
is  third  wife,  Margaret  Iloradel,  by  whom  he  had  one  son,  Jerc-  \A 
iiab,bom  August  11,  lf>48.  and  who,  at^er  his  death,  became 
Ae  wife  of  Jonathan  Mitchell,  his  successor  in  the  church  at 
0am  bridge. 

Mr.  Shepard's  work  upon  earth  was  now  almost  finished,  and 
Ihs  uMful  life  was  rapidly  drawing  lo  a  close.  Hb  health  had  al 
period  of  his  life  been  very  vigorous,  and  he  was  liable  U> 
'frequent  attacks  of  illness.  He  was,  as  Johnson  tells  us,  "  a 
yoor.  weak,  pale-eom[)lexioned  man,  whose  physical  powers  were 
fceblc.  but  spent  to  ihe  full ;  "  and  ho  says  of  himself,  that  be 
■  very  weak,  and  unSt  to  be  tossed  up  and  down,  and  to 
bear  persecution."  It  is  astonishing  that  with  such  a  feeble 
liody  h«  was  able  lo  endure  so  many  "  alllietionB  nnd  lemptK- 
lions,"  and  to  perform  such  an  oniount  of  intellectual  and  other 
l>l>or.     Ill  August,  IG49,  upon  his  return  from  a  meeting  of 

l«r!i  ut  Rowley,  he  took  a  severe  cold,  which  terminated  in  \/ 
Quinsy,  accompanied  by  fever,  and  in  a  few  days  "  stepped  a 
■Over  (nirapei  from  whence  the  people  of  God  had  ofieii  heard 
tfie  joyful  sound  of  the  gospel."    He  died  August  25,  1 G49,  b  the 
ftMty-fourth  year  of  bis  age,  universally  lamented  by  the  whola  ' 

*  Clear  Sutuhinc,  etc.,  puiim 


cUxvi  LIFE   OF  THOMAS   8HEPAHD,  V 

colonj,  in  whose  service  he  had  eshausted  all  liU  powers.    "  Th« 
nest  losn,"  says  Juhoson,  "  wns  the  death  of  that  famous  preach- 
er of  Uie  Lord,  Mr.  Hooker,  paslor  of  the   church   nt  Hartford, 
\  and  Mr.  Phillips,    pnslor  of    the    church    at   Watertown,  and 
I  the   holj,  heaveni}',  soul-affecting,  soul-mTishing  minister,  Mr. 
I  Thomas  Shepard,  pastor  of  the  church  at  Cambridge,  whose  de- 
parture was  very  heavily  taken  by  all  the  people  of  Christ  round 
Hbout  him ;  and  now  New  England,  that  had  such  heaps  upon 
heaps  of  the  riches  of  Christ's  tender,  compassionate  mercies, 
being  turned  from  his  dandling  kneea,  began  to  read  their  ap- 
proaching rod,  in  the  bend  of  his  brow  and  frowns  of  his  former 
favorable  countenance  toward  thera."  • 

The  words  of  the  dying  are  generally  regarded  as  deeply  sig- 
nificant ;  and  the  last  cxprei^ions  of  a  soul  on  the  verge  of  heaven 
are  treasured  up  and  repeated  by  the  living  as  revelalions  from 
the  inner  sanctuary  of  truth.  The  nature  of  the  disease  of  which 
Mr.  Shepard  died  perhaps  prevented  him  from  speaking  much 
Qpon  his  death  bed  ;  and  many  things  which  he  may  have  said 
have  not,  probably,  been  reported  to  us.  A  few  precious  say 
ings,  however,  have  been  preserved,  and,  coming  acrosiS  the  gulf 
of  two  hundred  years,  sound  like  a  voice  from  heaven.  "  O,  love  " 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  very  much,"  said  he  to  those  who  stood 
by  his  bed  side  watching  his  ebbing  breath ;  "  that  little  part 
which  I  have  in  him  is  no  small  comfort  to  me  now."  The 
pious  Baily,  of  Watertown,  has  preserved  in  his  diary  a  sentence 
from  those  dying  lips  whicli  is  worthy  to  form  the  practical 
maxim  of  every  minister.  To  several  young  ministers  who  visit- 
ed him  just  before  his  decease  he  said,  "  Your  work  is  great,  and 
calls  for  great  seriousness.  As  to  myself,  I  can  say  three  things 
Jiat  the  study  of  every  sermon  cost  me  tears ;  that  before  1 
preached  a  sermon,  I  got  good  by  it  myself;  and  that  I  always 
went  up  into  the  pulpit  as  if  I  were  to  give  up  my  account  to 
my  Master."  "  O  that  my  soul,"  adds  Baily,  "  may  rememlwr. 
Old  practice  accordingly."  f 

•  Wonder-working  Proviiloncc,  p.  113. 

t  Extract  &om  Bnil/a  Dior;,  in  AUilior's  Magnulia. 


J 


:  oi'  TuouAa  sbcpa^bu. 


clxxvii 


Among  his  dying  words,  and  perhaps  not  less  indicative  of 
'lais  spiritual  stale  tlmo  ibo^ie  already  quoted,  we  urny  place  his 
Uiit  will  It  was  dictated  to  his  frienda  Daniel  Gookin  aud\/ 
Samuel  Daafbrth  but  a  few  moments  before  hia  spirit  departed ; 
tad  in  the  calmncM  with  which  he  diiiposcil  of  all  hii!  worldljr 
•ubslaiice  fur  the  benefit  of  the  liv^ing,  while  he  gave  up  his  soul 
lo  God  in  the  assurance  of  a  glorious  immortalitj,  through  the 
merits  of  Jvsua  Christ,  we  see  the  true  character  and  the  all- 
|ierradiDg  influence  of  his  personal  religion-  It  had  been  his  aim 
through  life  to  do  all  things  to  the  glory  of  God  ;  and  when  he 
Cftme  to  die,  it  seemed  to  him  as  much  an  act  of  pietj  to  lake 
thought  fur  the  welfare  uf  those  whom  he  was  lo  leave  behind 
D  meditate  upon  the  crown  that  awaited  him  in  heaven. 

Or  the  2oth  day  of  the  Gth  month.  (August.)  1649,  Mr. 
Thomas  Shepard,  paslar  of  the  church  at  Cambridge,  being  of 
perfect  memory,  and  having  hie  understanding  clear,  made  his 

will  and  testament  in  the  presence  of  Daniel  Gookin  and 
Samuel  Danforth. 

Upon  the  day  and  year  above  written,  about  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  he,  feeling  his  spirits  failing,  commanded  all  ywrsona 

roid  the  room  except  those  before  named,  and  then  desiring 
their  ait«ndanc->e,  spoke  distinctly  unto  them  as  fulloweih,  or 
words  to  like  effect :  — 

'I  desire  to  take  this  op|K)rtuniiy  to  make  my  will,  and  I 
•faUnwt  you  to  observe  what  I  speak,  and  take  witnesses  to  iL 

**' 1.  I  believe  in  the  everlasting  Grod  the  Father,  and  his 
Weraal  Son  Christ  Jesus,  and  communion  of  the  Holy  Spirit ; 
sod  this  God  I  have  chosen  for  my  only  portion :  and  in  the 
irerlasting  mercies  of  this  same  God,  Father,  Son,  and  Iluly 
Spirit,  I  rest  and  repose  my  soul. 

*"2.  All  my  whole  temporal  estate  (my  debts  being  first  paid) 
X  leave  with  my  dear  wile,  during  her  estate  of  widowhood : 
I  she  may  with  the  same  maintain  herself,  and  educate  my 
jbildren  in  learning,  especially  my  sons  Thomas  and  Samuel. 
"  'S.  In  case  my  wife  marry  B^ain,  then  my  will  it,  that  my 


clxxviii  LIFE   OP   TBOUAS   SHEPARD. 

wife  shall  Lave  etich  a  proportiun  of  my  estate  ae 

shall  judge   meet.     And  also   I  give  unto  her  the  gold  which  ia 

in  a  certain  box  io  my  studj'. 

" '  i.  The  residue  of  my  estate  I  give  nnd  bcquealli  lo  ray  four 
children,  as  followeth,  viz. :  (1.)  A  double  portion  to  ray  tUlcst 
son,  Thomad,  together  with  my  best  silver  tankard,  and  my  best 
black  suit  and  cloak,  aud  all  my  books,  manuscripts  and  papers; 
which  last  named,  viz.,  books,  manuscripts  and  paper?,  although 
the  properly  of  my  son  Thomns,  yet  tlicy  aliall  be  for  the  use 
of  my  wife  and  my  olher  children.  (2.)  To  my  son  Samuel  a 
single  portion,  together  ivith  one  of  my  long  silver  bowls.  (3.) 
To  my  son  John  I  bequeath  a  single  portion,  with  the  other  long 
sliver  bowl.  (-1.)  To  my  son  Jeremiiih  a  single  portion,  and  my 
other  silver  tankard. 

" '  5.  I  give  and  bequeath,  as  a  legacy  to  my  beloved  friend 
Mr.  Samuel  Danforth,  my  velvet  cloak  and  ten  pounds. 

■"6.  I  give  unto  the  elders,  to  be  equally  divided,  five  pounds 
that  Mr.  Pelliam  oweth  rac. 

"  '  7.  I  give  unto  my  cousin  Sledmnn  five  pounds. 

'"8.  I  give  to  Ruth  Mitohenson,  the  elder,  ten  pounds. 

" '  Lastly,  I  do  hereby  appoint  my  dear  friends  and  brethren, 
Daniel   Gookin,    Edward  Collins,  Edward   Gotfe,  and  Samuel 
Danforth,  to  be  executors  of  this  my  last  will  and  teslamcnt.' 
Daniel  Gookis, 
Samueil  Danforth,"" 

Thus  died  Thomas  Shepard,  in  the  peace  of  God  that  passetb 
all  understanding,  which  kept  his  mind  and  his  heart  through 
Jesus  Christ.  There  is  something  in  this  dying  scene  which 
reminds  of  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  afTeeting  incidents  in 
the  life  of  that  Saviour  whom  Sbcpard  eo  much  resembled. 
"  When  Jesus,  therefore,  saw  his  mother,  and  the  disciple  stand- 

*  The  inventory  of  Mr.  Shopnrd'i  estate,  consUdng  of  Unds,  rumilore, 
and  libritry,  siDounted  to  eigjai  liundred  and  Icn  pounds  nino  ahillings  ooo 
penoj.  His  books,  —  about  two  hundred  and  sisly  in  number,  —  together 
with  Mveral  MSS,,  were  valacd  M  one  hundred  poiindti. 


LIFE   OF  THOKAB   BHEPARD,  Clzxix 

ing  hj  nhom  he  \oveA,  he  saith  to  his  mother.  Woman,  behold 
Ihy  son  !  Then  saith  he  to  the  disciple,  Behold  thy  mother  ! 
And  from  that  hour  that  disciple  look  her  unto  hia  own  house." 
Mr.  Shepard  vas  buried  at  CHtabrtdge  amidst  the  regret«  and 
tbe  tcaK  of  a  congregation  and  a  college  that  owed,  under  God, 
their  eiislence  and  their  prosperity  to  liis  devoted  labora  and  sac- 
rifices. But  "  no  man  [now]  knoweih  of  hia  sepnlchcr."  Such 
have  been  the  changes  irhich  time  and  accidcut  have  produced, 
that  no  stone  remains  to  mark  the  place  of  his  rest,  nor  is  it  pos- 
sible to  identify  the  grave  that  holds  his  precious  dust.  His 
-friend,  Mr.   Buckley,  oa   aa  expression  of  his  love  and  grief, 

■wrolc  a  Latin    dcgy  upon  the   occnaion    of  tie    doalh,  of   vrhlob 

Mather  has  preserved  tvni  lines,  as  a  coinprelien!>ive  epitaph, 
descriptive  at  once  of  hia  faithfulness  and  of  his  success  in  hia 
minLsEiy. 

"  Nomioia,  ofGciiqi  fait  conrordii  dalda; 

Officio  pMtor,  nomine  Putor  ermt." 

His  niune  Rnd  office  sweetl}'  did  ifp*^ 

Shepard  by  nttmi;,  uid  in  hia  mitiiiilry. 

That  Mr.  Shepard  must  have  been  a  powerful  and  an  efficient  * 
preacher  might  be  inferred  from  what  we  know  of  his  spiritual 
preparation  for  the  ministry ;  of  the  purity  and  elevation  of 
his  personal  religion  ;  of  his  close  and  humble  wulk  with  Godi 
of  his  devotion  to  the  interests  of  his  flock,  —  if  we  had  not  the 
testimony  of  conteniiwraries  who  were  eye  witnesses  and  heart  wit- 
nesses of  llie  effects  which  his  preaching  produced.  When  we 
■re  told  that  he  always  finished  his  preparation  for  the  pulpit  by 
two  o'clock  on  Saturday  afternoon,  believing  "that  God  wonld 
curse  that  man's  labors  who  goes  lumbering  up  and  down  in  the 
world  all  the  week,  and  then  upon  Saturday  atiemoon  goes  to  bis 
study,  whenas  God  knows  lltat  time  were  little  enough  to  pray  in, 
Mud  weep  in,  snd  get  bis  heart  into  a  frame  Bt  for  the  approach- 
ing Sabbath,"  —  when  we  know  that  he  wept  in  the  composition 
of  his  sermons, —  that  he  went  into  the  pulpit  as  if  he  expected'^' 
there  (o  give  up  his  account  of  his  stewardship,  —  that  lie  al- 
ways derived  Eome  spiritual  benefit  from  liis  discourses  before  he  V 
delivered  them  lo  his  people,  —  and  that  the  conversion  of  hi* 


I 


cixXX  LIKE  or   TUOMAa    ailEPAUD. 

hearers  was  the  great  end  of  bia  preaching,  —  we  are  sure  that 
hih  eermons  must  have  been  effective,  and,  like  the  word  of  Go^  , 
of  which  ihej  were  but  the  eclio,  quick  and  powerful,  sharpei 
than  any  two-edged  sword,  piercing  even  lo  (he  dividing  asunder 
of  the  joiota  and  marrow,  and  laying  hare  the  thoughts  and 
inlenU  of  the  heart.  That  intense  zeal  in  the  service  of  God, — 
that  unreserved  self-consecration  to  the  work  of  turning  man 
from  darkness  to  light,  —  that  holy  patience  in  tribulation, — 
that  baptism  of  sermons  in  tears,  —  those  "  heavenly  prayerg,"  — 
oould  not  but  render  him 

"  A  aon  oftbnndcr  and  asbower  of  rain." 

And  this  inference  is  justified  and  conlirmed  by  those  who  saw 
and  felt  the  power  of  his  preaching,  "  This  year,"  1649,  says 
Morton,  "  that  faithful  and  eminent  servant  of  Christ,  Mr. 
Thomas  Shepard,  died.  He  was  a  soul-searching  minister  of  the 
gospel.  By  his  death,  not  only  the  church  and  people  of  Cam> 
bridge,  but  also  all  New  England,  sustained  a  very  great  loss. 
He  not  only  preached  the  gospel  profitably  and  very  successfully, 
but  also  bath  left  behind  him  divers  worthy  works  of  special  use 
in  reference  to  the  clearing  up  of  the  stale  of  the  soul  to  God 
and  man ;  the  Iwnefit  whereof  those  can  best  experience  who 
are  most  conversant  in  the  improvement  of  them,  and  have  God's 
blessing  on  them  therein  lo  their  soul's  good."  •  There  is  a 
tradition,  received  by  Mr.  Prince  from  the  old  men  of  his  day, 
and  by  him  banded  down  to  us,  that  he  "  scarce  ever  preached  a 
sermon  but  some  one  or  other  of  his  congregation  were  struck 
with  great  distress,  and  cried  out  in  agony,  *  What  shall  1  do  to 
be  saved  ; '  and  that  tliough  his  voice  was  low,  yet  so  searching 
-was  his  preaching,  and  so  great  a  power  attending,  as  a  hypo* 
crite  could  not  easily  bear  it,  and  it  seemed  almost  irresistible."  t 
Johnson  can  not  find  epilliela  enough  to  espress  hia  personal 
excellence,  nor  language  to  set  forth  the  wonderful  effects  of 
hia  public  ministrations:  "that  gracious,  sweet,  heave nlv'^nind- 


*  MortoQ't  New  England  Menorial,  p.  169. 
t  PriDCc'*  StrmMi*,  pnbUthed  b;  Enkine.  p.  (•»■ 


1 


to  Mr.  Shcpard's  power 

converted,  ^ 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS   SHEFARD.  clxXXi 


e<1,  and  soul-mvishiog  minister,"  being  the  common,  and  i^paiw- 
«nll/  iaadeiiiiaie  terms  in  which  tie  speaks  of  the  pastor  of  Cam- 
bridge; -'in  whose  soul,"  eays  ihe  enthusiastic  eulogist,  "the 
Lord  ?hcd  abroad  hiR  love  bo  abundantly,  that  thousands  of  souls 
liBve  cause  to  bless  God  for  him,  even  at  this  very  day.  who  are 
the  seal  of  liis  ministry  ;  and  he  a  man  of  a  thouearxi,  endued 
with  abundance  of  true,  saving  knowledge  for  himself  and  others." 
perhaps  the  most  discriminating  and  competent  witness 

the  pulpit  is  Jonathan  Mitche),  who,  . 
inly  greatly  enlightened,  and  aided  in  \ 
Lis  inquiries  after  truth,  by  his  ministry.  Mr.  Mttchel,  aa 
Unthcr  telis  us,  kept  a  journal  of  hia  inward  life,  a  few  extracts 
from  which  are  preserved  in  the  Magnalia.  On  one  occasion  he 
made  this  entr}^ :  "  I  liad  hardly  any  savor  on  my  spirit  before 
God  ;  but  a  terrible  an<l  most  excellent  sermon  of  Mr.  Shepard 
■wakened  me.  He  taught  rae  that  there  are  some  who  seem  to 
be  found  and  saved  by  Christ,  and  yet  afterward  they  perish. 
These  remarks  terrified  me.  I  begged  of  G^  that  he  w«uld 
linvc  mercy  on  me,  and  accomplisli  the  whole  work  of  hia  grace 
lor  me."  *  On  utother  occasion  he  thus  writes :  "  Mr.  Shepard 
preached  most  profitably.  That  night  I  was  followed  with  seri- 
ous Ihoughia  of  my  ineipre^ible  misery,  wherein  I  go  on,  from 
Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  without  God  and  without  redemption."  t 
Hr.  Miti-hel  succeeded  Mr.  Sheparil,  and  hia  lirst  sermons  were 
full  of  lainonlations  over  the  loss  which  he  and  the  peo)>Ie  had 
•uRered  in  the  extinction  of  "  that  light  of  New  England."  On 
one  occasion,  when  referring  to  the  few  years  which  he  had  lived 
luidcr  Mr.  Shepanl's  ministry,  he  said,  "  Unless  it  had  been  fbar 
jenn  living  in  heaven,  I  know  not  bow  I  could  have  more  cause 
to  blcM  God  with  wonder  than  for  those  four  years."  J  After 
til,  perliaps  the  general  impression  which  he  produced  upon  tho 
|ieople  to  whom  he  preached,  the  character  of  the  piety  which 
grew  up  under  his  ministrations,  and  the  spiritual  state  of  the 
church,  furnish  tlie  best  proofs  of  his  |>uwer.     Mr.  Mitchcl  was, 


•  M«enalia.a  iv.  pp.iet 

TOL.  L  p 


t   lb. 


t  lb.  B.  ii 


Claixii  LIFE    OF    TH0MA3    SnEPAIlU. 

at  first,  very  reluctant,  even  ivben  urged  by  Mr,  Sliepard  upon 
his  death  bed,  lo  occupy  the  pulpit  of  his  illuEtrious  teacher  ;  i 
the  only  con  side  rat  ion  wbich  finally  induced  bim  lo  accept  the 
pastoral  charge  of  that  congregation  was,  as  he  himself  declared, 
"  that  tbey  wore  a  gracious,  savory-spiriled  people,  principled 
by  Mr.  Shepard,  liking  a  bumbling,  mourning,  heart-breaking 
minislTy  and  spirit ;  living  in  religion,  praying  men  and  women." 
A  preacber  vho  could  make  such  a  man  oa  Mitcbel  feel  that  he 
was  living  for  four  yeai's  ui  heaven,  and  leave  such  an  impression 

Iopon  a  whole  people,  must  have  been,  to  use  the  language  of  ihe 
venerable   Iligginson,  a  "  Chrysoalom   in   the    pulpit,"  and  a 

'  "  Timothy  in  his  family,"  and  in  the  church. 

^  Aa  a  writer,  Mr.  Shepard  deservedly  holds  a  high  rank  among 
the  most  able  divines  which  Puritanism  —  fruitful  in  great  men 
—  has  ever  produced.  His  works  are  controversial,  doctrinal, 
and  practical.  He  was  "  an  Augustine  in  disputation,"  as  well 
as  a  Cbrysostom  in  the  pulpit ;  and,  like  a  scribe  well  instructed, 
he  produced  several  works  wbich  are  of  permanent  value  for 
doctrine  and  instruction  in  righteousness.     His  "  Thebeh  Sab- 

1BATICJ!,"  or  "  Doctrine  of  the  Sabbath,"  is  a  masterly  discussion 
of  the  morality,  the  change,  the  bf.ginning,  and  the  iimcHJication 
of  the  Sabbath.  It  is  the  subsUince  of  several  -aermons  upon  the 
fourth  commandment,  and  was  thrown  into  the  seholasUc  form  of 
theses,  or  short  propositions,  at  the  earnest  request,  and  for  ibe 
particular  use,  of  the  students  in  the  college.  Afterward,  at  the 
desire  of  all  the  elders  in  New  England,  the  work  was  somewhat 
enlatgedjtuid  published  in  its  presentformin  1C43.  It  is  now 
very  rare,  not  more  than  two  or  three  copies  being  known  to  be 
extant  With  respect  to  the  precise  time  at  which  the  Christian 
Sabbath  begins,  he  differed  slightly  from  some  of  ihe^tddcriM  and 
Mr,  Allen,  together  with  several  others,  wrote  friendly  argu- 
mentative letters  to  him  upon  that  point;  \^aL  the  tjueslion 
seems  to  be  of  too  little  interest  or  importance  to  call  for  any 
remark  in  this  place.  Of  the  "  Answer  to  Ball"  we  liavo 
already  spoken.  The  Preface  lo  that  book  contains  an  admira- 
ble exposition  of  the  grounds  uimii  which  our  fathers  proceeded 
in  ibeir  great  enterprise  in  New  England,  and  if  republbhed  by 


LIFE   OP  THOMAS   SDKPASD.  clxxxlu 

iisi'lf,  Ai  it  was  a  •^I'ciil  maay  years  ago,  would  be  an  invaluable 
tract  for  the  limeii. 

AlK>Nt  lliree  monlhe  before  his  death,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  a 
friend  upon  ttie  subject  of  infant  baptism,  iu  wkich  he  felt  A 
deep  interest.  It  was  published  in  I QRS,  at  tho  cameat  rcr|uest 
of  many  who  had  heard  of  its  effect  upon  the  |ierson  to  whom  it 
wasaddreased,  under  the  title  of  "TnE  CncRCH  MEUBEHsmp  or 
Children,  and  their  Kight  to  Baptism,  according  to  that  holy 
and  everlasting  covenant  of  God  cstublifihed  between  liimsulf  and 
the  faithful,  and  their  seed  n(\er  lliem,  in  their  generations." 
Of  all  the  works  upon  infant  baplism  —  and  they  are  many  — 
which  have  been  written  in  New  England,  this  letter  of  Shep- 
ard'g  mny  l>e  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  able  and  satisfactory. 

Mr.  Shepard's  ciylc  is  often  rugged,  but  full  of  passages  of  (/ 
eweet  and  quiet  beauty,  which  makes  the  reader  think  of  pure 
w«ter  gushing  from  some  craggy  rock,  or  of  flowers  Epringing  up 
on  the  side  of  a  rough  pathway.  lie  utters  great  thoughts  with- 
out any  apparent  preparation  on  effort,  as  if  they  were  ever 
present  and  most  fiimiliar  to  his  mind,  and  amidst  his  most  ele- 
vated or  abstruse  reasoning,  continually  surjirisea  and  deliglita 
the  reader  with  ultcraneea  which  seem  to  come  from  the  heart 
of  a  little  child.  In  his  polemica  there  is  no  bittertiess.  He~ 
never  takes  an  unfair  advantage  of  an  opjionent,  nor  uses  abu- 
nve  language  in  the  place  of  argument.  He  is  always  serious,' 
candid,  frank,  and  charitable.  He  held  and  taught  the  distin- 
guishing doctrines  of  grace,  which  Calvin  before  him  had  dis- 
cussed !  but  he  never  presents  them  as  dry  dogmas,  nor  uses  any 
language  respecting  them  which  is  calculated  to  wound,  unnc-  j. 
ecBsarily,  a  serious  mind,  tie  always  appears  lovely  in  the  most'  ^ 
terrible  pa&^ages ;  and  m.ikcs  one  feel  (he  influence  of  his  gently 
spirit,  while  he  sends  the  truth  with  overwhelming  [wwcr  to  the 
lie  was  a  Puritan  and  a  Congregationalist ;  but  in 
■tuning  and  defending  his  position  against  those  whuSe  words 
drawn  swords,"  his  spirit  is  always  unruflled,  and  his 
icea,  though  uttered  with  earnestness,  convey  no 
into  tlte  wound  which  they  produce. 

There    is    a   class    of  persons,  who,    while    they  do    tua^to 


clxsZiT  LIFE   OF  TROUAS   SHKr^RD. 


■  justice    to    Mr.    Shepnrd's     talents,    lenming,    anil    piely,   yet 

■  coni[>lain  much  of  what  ihcy  term  llie  severe,  legal,  discour- 
I  aging  aspect  of  some  of  his  practical  tentingM  —  pnrticularly 
'         Ibose    in   whii'h  be  cxiiibita    tbe    ronditions   of   salralioo,  and 

endeavors  to  lead  a  einner  to  Christ.  The  remarks  of  n 
recent  English  autlior  upon  this  alleged  characteristic  of 
Shepard's  works  exhibit  nil  Ihe  (Ejections  that  have  ever  been 
mode  ngainst  them.  "The  TreBtiaes  of  S.  and  D.  Rogers,  Th. 
Hooker,  and  the  New  England  Sbepanl,"  says  he,  "  enn  not  be 
read  without  grave  exceptions.     For  in  these  valuable  writers, 

—  and  others  might  be  named,  —  amidst  much  that  is  supcrex- 
cellent,  tliere  are  statements  as  to  the  constitaiion  of  a  Chrieiian 
which  look  austere;  which,  by  checking  the  freeness  of  salration, 
become,  though  contrary  to  intention,  stumbling  blocks,  and  the 
occasion  of  mental  trouble.  Instead  of  at  once  directing  sinners, 
as  the  apostles  did,  to  the  finished  atonement,  — lo  the  propitia- 
tory work  of  Christ,  —  of  urging  them  to  take  God  al  his  word, 

—  to  receire  Ihe  testimony  giv<:n  of  his  Son,  and  so  to  possess 
joy  and  peace  in  believing,  these  good  men  seem  to  have  licen 
infected  with  the  ancient  errors,  which  confined  evangelical  teach* 
ing  to  the  initiated.     They  evidently  thought  a  routine  of  tedious 

\f  preparation  needful  before  coming  lo  the  Saviour.    QuulilicationSr 

therefore,  unknown  to  the  word  of  God,  were  prescribed,  and 

rules  laid  down,  which  not  merely  concealed  great  and  precious 

x^roraiscB,  but  savored  of  a  legal  spirit,  and  kejit  out  of  view  that 

deal))  unto  the  law  which  is  ihe  life  of  evangelical  obedience."  " 

In  this  general  charge  of  austere  and  legal  teaching,  which,  as 

this  writer  says,  obscures  the  prtwnjses  and  gvnee  of  the  gospel, 

we  do  not  distinctly  perceive  the  points  wherein  Mr.  Sliepjird  ii 

\         supposed  lo  be  erroneous.     But  in  Giles  FIrmin's  "  Ucal  Chris- 

>       tian,"  a  book  which  was  written  expressly  for  the  purpose  of 

correcting  the  errors  of  the  "Sincere  Convert," — one  of  Mr. 

Shep&rd's  nmst  practical  works,  —  the  dangerous  doctrines  a 

1     set  forth,  and  controverted  at  length.     In  this  book  Mr.  Shepard 

m)     teaches  tiial  the  preparatory  work  which  every  sinnar  must  e 

•  Letttr*  on  Ihc  Parilans,  by  J.  B,  Willinms,  p.  170. 


LIFE    OF  THOMAS    BHEPARD,  ClXXXV 

before  he  can  receive  the  grace  of  God  id  Christ,  in- 
dudes  eoHvidfon  "f^n,  compunction,  aud  htinnlxalion  ;  that  the  ^ 
ainner  must  be   wilisfioil  with   the  will  of  Giod,   though   his   bi: 
should  be  unsuwt'ssl'ul ;  thatllie  soiil  must  Be  bo  huinWeS  as 
be  willing  tliarClinsl  slioulJdispusG  of  ii  acconling  to  his  pTea 
are  ;  that  the  sinner  mu^t  seek  the  glory  of  God's  grace  above 
bia  own  aalralion ;   and  that  in  tliis  work  of  conviction,  com- 
punction, and  humiliation,  we  must  be  so  thoroughly  divested  of 
■11  »eU*-ccnfidence  and  disposiiion  to  dictate  to  God,  tliat  he  shall 
appear  supremely  excellent,  though  we  may  never  partake  of 
his  love. 

Firmin  thouglit  that  a  person  under  tuch  a  preparatory  work 
was  as  good  a  Christian  as  he  could  be  if  he  were  actually  united 
to  Christ.  In  a  letter  (o  Mr.  Sheptird,  he  expressed  bis  surprise 
at  the  doctrine  ibat  an  ael  of  grace  or  of  obedience  should  b« 
required  of  a  person  under  a  preparalorg  work,  than  which,  be 
eonueived,  none  gretitcr  could  be  performed  by  a  real  Christian  ; 
ftnd  be  declared  that  he  knew  no  act  of  self-denial  in  the  gospel 
like  lliie  quiet  submission  to  the  justice  and  sovereignty  of  Grod, 
irreapective  of  any  assurance  of  pardon  and  acceptance;  and 
Ihis,  loo,  under  the  preparalory  work  of  humiliation  I 

This  doctrine,  Mr.  Firmin  thought,  must  be  a  great  stumbling 
block  in  llie  way  of  sinners,  and  occasion  great  perplexity  in  all 
readers  who  believed  it  to  be  true.  And  be  seems  to  have 
Inown  one  serious  person,  besides  himself,  who  was  much  trou- 
Idei^  by  this  "constitution  of  a  ChrisUan."  "Preaching  once 
Abroad," he  says,  "I  closed  up  l)ic  point  in  band,  by  applying  it 
to  wbu  Mr.  Shepard  bad  delivered,  to  see  how  these  doctrines 
■greed.  A  gentleman  and  a  scholar,  meeting  me  some  time  after, 
g»vc  me  thanks  for  the  close  of  my  sermon.  I  asked  him  why. 
He  lold  me  that  he  had  a  m:ud  servant  who  was  very  godly, 
And  reading  of  ibat  particular  in  Sir.  Shepard's  book  which  I 
apposed,  she  was  so  cast  down,  and  fell  into  such  trouble, 
that  all  the  Christians  who  came  to  her  could  not  qniet  her 
■pLrik"  ■     That  is,  this  poor,  godly  servant  moid  could  not  be 

*  Bod  Chmtino,  PreTftM,  pp.  4,  S. 


clsXXvi  LIFE   OF  THOMAS   SnEFABD. 

freed  from  trouble  of  mind,  oci-asioned  bj  tlie  doclriae  that  she 
rauat  be  truly  couviaced  of  sin,  be  deeply  humbled,  and  submit 
impliciily  to  tlie  will  of  God,  uniil  she  wa3  convinced,  by  Mr, 
Firmin,  that  Sliepard,  though  an  emioeDtly  learned  and  holy 
nan,  was  mistaken  tn  reluliou  to  that  matter ! 

Before  attempting  lo  suggest  on  answer  to  these  objections,  it 

may  be  well  to  reraark  ihat  the  book  called  the  "  Sincere  Cou- 

■  Tert "  was,  perhaps,  of  all  Mr.  Shepard's  works,  the  least  salisfac- 

1'^  lory  to  himself;  not  because  its    fundamental  doctrines  Wei's 
doubtful  to  his  own  mind,  but  because  it  had  not  received  that 
revision  from  his  own  hand  whicli  every  work  requires,  and  waa, 
moreover,  barbarously  printed.     "  It  waa,"  says  Mr.  Shepard, 
in  B  lett«r  lo  Mr.  Firmin,  "  a  collection  of  notes  in  a  dark  town 
^    in  England,  which  one  procuring  of  me,  published  without  my 
/    will  or  privity.     I  scarce  know  what  it  contains  ;  nor  do  I  like 
to  see  it,  consideriug  the  many  tyiHtgrapbicol  errors,  most  absurd, 
■    and  the  confession  of  him  that  published  it,  that  it  comes  out 
mutilated   and  altered  from  what  waa  first    written."  •      And 
—^     this  was  sajd  in  October.  1647,  a  year  nf\er  the  English  pub- 
X  Usher,  in  hie  fourth  editiou,  declared  that  the  book  had  been 
"  corrected  and  mnch  amended  by  the  author  "  I 

Mr.  Shepard,  however,  whilij  he  thus  almost  disowned  tlie 
"  Sincere  Convert,"  did  not  disavow,  but  vindicated  the  doctrine 
)i^  here  called  in  question,  Though  it  was  a  "ragged  child,"  at 
sometimes  called  it,  it  spoke  ujtoa  this  point,  at  least,  the  se 
menis  of  its  author.  In  a  teller  to  ilr.  FirniJn,  he  says,  "  I  do 
not  think  this  (that  is,  unconditional  submission  lo  the  will  of 
God)  is  the  highest  measure  of  grace,  as  you  hint,  any  further 
than  as  any  peculiar  work  of  the  Spirit  is  high ;  for  upon  a  nar- 
row inquiry,  it  is  far  different  from  llmt  readiness  of  Paul  and 
Moses,  out  of  a  principle  of  love  to  Christ,  to  wish  themselves 
I  anathematized  for  Israel's  sake ;  wlucL  is  a  Ligli  pitch  indeed." 
I  And  he  closes  bis  letter  thus ;  "  Let  my  love  end  in  breathing 
^out  this  desire :  Preach  humiliation.  Labor  lo  possess  men  with 
^  sense  of  wrath  to  come,  and  misery-     The  gospel  consolations 

■  Beat  (^hriiluia.  P'  >I5. 


LIFE   OF  THOMAS   SHEPABD.  gIzXXvU 

and  grace,  which  some  would  hare  dished  out  as  the  dainties  of 
the  times,  and  set  upon  the  ministry's  <alilc,  miiy  poiisibly  tickle 
and  ravish  some,  and  do  aoiue  good  to  ihem  that  arc  humbled 
and  converted  already.  But  il'  ases  and  wedges,  wiihul,  be  not 
Hied  lo  hew  and  break  this  rough,  uneven,  bold,  jet  professing 
age,  I  am  confident  the  work  and  fruit  of  those  men's  minis- 
try will  be  at  best  mere  hypocrisy  ;  and  they  shall  find  it,  aod 
•ec  it,  if  iliey  live  to  Bee  a  few  years  more."  " 

Mr.  Shepard  here  touches  the  root  of  the  matter.     A  minis- 
try, lo  be  iruly  fruitful,  mu)it  show  to  ibe  people  tbeir  transgrea-t ' 
Biens  ;  and  that  doctrine  that  does  pot  bumble  the  sinner  and  re-  v 
quire  anconditional  submission,  while  it  offers  redeeming  grace, 
though  it  were  preached  by  an  angel  from  heaven,  is  anathema- 
tiEPd  by  the  gospel.     "  Some  souls  can  relish  none  but  mealy- 
'  mouthed  preachers,  who  come  with  soft,  and  einoo'th,  and  looih- 
lesa  words,  (byssina  verba,  byssiiiis  viris.)     But  these  times  need  / 
humbling  mmislries ;  and  blessed  be  God  lliat  there  are  any/ 
For  where  there  are  no  law  sermons,  there  will  be  few  gospel  liiea  ;t^ 
and  were  there  more  law  preaching  by  the  men  of  gifts,  there 
'Would  be  more  gospel  walking  both  by  themselves  and  the  people. 
To  preach  the  law,  not  in  a  forced,  otfected  manner,  but  wisely 
and  powerfully,  together  with  the  gospel,  as  Christ  himself  was 
wont  to  do,  is  the  way  to  carry  on  all  three  together,  vie.,  tetis«  of 
iwijwry,  —  the  apjittcalion  of  the  remedy,  —  and  the  returru  of 
thaitifulneti  and  duty.     Nor  is  any  doctrine  more  comforting 
than  this  humbling  way  of  God,  if  rightly  mBnagcd."  f 

Mr.  Shepard  hod  an  able  defender  of  his  doctrines,  as  well 
as  a  worthy  snt.'cessor  to  liis  ministry,  in  Jonathan  Mitt'hcl,  who  ^ 
drank  into  lUe  spirit  of  that  theology  which  exalts  God  while  it 
abases  man.  and  carried  out  in  his  preaching  the  views  of  his 
master.  "  I  have,"  he  says,  "  no  greater  request  for  myself  and 
for  you,  than  that  God  would  make  us  see  things  as  they  really 
are,  and  pound  our  hearts  all  to  pieces, and  make-sin  most  bitter, 
and  Christ  most  sweet,  that  we  might  be  both  humbled  and  com- 

•  Bcal  Chriiliin,  pp.  19,  AG. 

t  FicfacB  lu  ShFpard'i  Scmotis  on  IncffcclaiJ  Bearing  of  the  Word,  by 
G.  GrMtihill  uiil  S.  Mather. 


clxxxviii  LIFE   OF   THOUAS   SHCrAKD. 

foried  lo  ]]ui'piise.     An  imperfect  work  of  die  law,  and  iheO'* 
aa  iinpert'eul   work  of  the   gospel,   is   (he  bane  and   ruin 
these  days,     Some  Aiara  and  olfections,  ami  llien  some  hopes  of 
mercy,  wiLliout  finding  full  rest  oitd  satisfaclion  in  Christ  alone, 
men  rest  in,  and  perish,"  " 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  legal  long  of  Mr.  Shepard's 
^  writitigs,  by  those  who  think  that  "  llie  Gud  of  terror,  the  Thun- 
/\  derer  from  .Sinai,  must  fold  up  his  lightnings' prettily ,  and  muffle 
his  thunder  in  an  easily-flowing,  poetical  measure,"  they  doubt- 
less exhibit  in  a  masterly  manner  those  distiuguiahing  doctrines 
of  grace  which  have  ever  been,  as  tticy  will  ever  he,  the  true  and 
only  foundation  of  the  sinner'^  peace. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  the  reader  to  learn  in  what  light  these 
writings  were  regarded  when  they  were  more  known  than  they 
are  now,  by  men  most  competent,  by  profound  ac(]uaintimce  with 
the  Scripiures,  to  judge  correctly  of  their  merits.  And  first, 
hear  how  Williimi  Greenhill  speaks  of  lliut  "  ragged  child,"  in 
the  edition  of  1632.  "The  autlior  is  one  of  singular  piety,  in- 
ward acipiainiance  with  God,  skilled  in  tlie  deceits  of  men's 
hearts,  able  to  enlighten  the  dark  corners  of  the  little  world,  and 
to  give  satisfaction  to  staggering  spirits.  The  work  is  weighty, 
quick,  and  spiritual ;  and  if  thine  eye  be  single  in  perusing  it, 
thou  shalt  find  many  precious,  soul-sea rehing,  soul-quickening, 
soul-enriching  truths  in  it ;  yen,  and  be  so  warned  and  awakened, 
us  that  thou  canst  not  but  bless  God  for  the  man  and  the  matter, 
unless  thou  be  possessed  with  a  dumb  devil."  t  While,  in  his 
"Power  of  Godhness,"  mentions,  among  the  best  means  and 
helps  for  acquiring  a  holy  character,  together  with  other  books, 
Shepard's  "  Sincere  Convert,"  and  "  Sound  Believer."  Steele, 
in  his  "  Husbandman's  Calling,"  advises  the  Christian  farmer  to 
purchase  some  choice  books,  and  read  them  well,  and  recom- 
mends Shepard's  "  Sound  Believer,"  us  one  of  ])eculiar  value.  | 
Hugh  Peters  exhorts  his  daughter  lo  read,  among  other  books 
mentioned  in  his  letter,  Shepard's  "  Sincere  Convert,"  for  the 

-  •  Letter lo  an  Anxiouj  Itniairer,  1649. 
1  FrafncB  to  Sincere  Convert,  p,  9. 
t  Lcttcn  on  the  I'uritiina,  tiv  J.  J).  Williams.  ^ 


LtFB   or  TBOUAS   SnSPAKD. 


clxxxix 


purpose  of  having  bcr   "  undersliuiding   enlightened  with  the 
want  of  Clirist  and  his  worth."  •     Bev.  James  Frazier,  of  Scot- 
land, in   1738,  thui   Hpeaks  of  ghepard'a  writings:  >'Tlie   Lord 
haih  blessed  ibe  reading  of  procLii^l  wriliDgs  to  me,  and  thereby 
faj  heart  balb  been  put  into  frame,  and  mueh  strength  and  light 
goiieo  i  Bucb  as  Isaac  Ambrose,  Goodwin,  Mr.  Gray,  and  very 
much  by  Rutherford's,  above  olliars  ;  but  mosL  of  alt,  by  Mr. 
TlKimas  Shepard,  of  New  England,  his  worka.     He  hath,  by 
Lord,  been  made  the  '  Interpreter,  one  of  a  tboueionil ; ' 
■o  thai,  under  CbrUl,  I  have  been  obliged  to  bis  writings  as    /■ 
much,  and  more,  than  to  any  man's  whatever,  for  Awakening,         ' 
Mrcngtiiening,  and  enlightening  my  soul.     The  Lord  made  him  a 
well  of  water  to  me  in  all  my  wilderness  straits."  t     Our  own 
Iwardd,  a  roan  whose  religious  experience  was  as  genuine  and 
M  deep  as  ibat  of  any  divine  whom  New  England  or  ihc  world  has 
produced,  was  more  indebted  to  Sbepard's  Sermons  on  the  Par-  y 
■fale  of  the  Ten  Virgins,  in  the  preparation  of  bis  "  Treatise  '^ 
ing  iho  Iteligious  Affections,"  than  to  any  otlier  human     ' 
production  whatever,  as  is  shown  by  the  fnct  that  out  of  one 
bnndred  and  ihirt3'-two  quotations  from  all  authors,  upward  of 
feventy-five  are  from  Mr.  Sbepard.     To  finbh  this  catalogue  of 
who  have  home  testimony  to  the  truth  and  power  of 
Mr.  Sbepard's  practical  writings,  we  repeat  what  old  Mr.  Ward, 
of  Ipswich,  once  said  to  Giles  Firmin,  his  son-in-law,  respecting 

the  prominent  characteristics  of  his  preaching  and  writ-  /' 
fag.  "  When  Sir.  Shepnnl  comes  to  deal  with  hypocrites,  heH 
eats  so  des|teniti'ly,  that  men  know  not  bow  to  bear  him ;  be 
makes  ihem  all  afraid  tliat  they  are  all  hypocrites.  But  when 
bo  comes  to  dtMil  with  a  lender,  bumble  soul,  he  gives  comfort 
(ly,  that  we  are  afraid  lu  tuke  It."  And  Mr,  Firmin  bimself 
I  book  which  he  so  severely  reviews  is,  for  the  ino«t 
solid,  quick,  and  searching,  cutting  very  shari>Iy," 
■0  means  a  book  for  "  an  uusound  heart  to  delight  in."  } 
Of  the  character  of  Mr.  Sliepard's  personal  religion,  aller 

•  BanbDry'&Mcmoriali,  111.573. 

t  Prcfkcc  to  Sokcl  Cm,  etc  bj  T.  Frince,  ITTl. 

I  Retl  CnirlaiUn.paia. 


y\ 


wbiit  lias  been  said  in  the  foregoing  account  of  bis  life,  it  is  un- 
necessary to  apeak  al  length.  The  beat  moral  portrait  of  liim 
that  we  have  is  drawn,  iinci>n?eiously,  by  liimself  in  his  diary,  lo 
which  more  than  one  reference  has  been  made.  It  is  a  journal, 
aa  David  Brainerd  justly  remorkB,  in  which  true  religion  is  de- 
lineated in  a  very  exact  and  beautiful  mnnner ;  and  in  reading 
this  expression  of  his  most  sceret  feelings,  —  never,  certainly, 
designed  lo  be  made  public,  —  we  may  see  what  he  regarded  as 
the  religion  of  a  minister  of  Christ,  tho  state  he  endeavored  to 
attain,  nnd  ihe  diflieulties  he  encountered  in  his  way  to  heaven. 
The  humiliation,  the  submission  to  the  will  of  God,  the  deep 
sense  of  unworthincss,  the  desire  to  advance  Ihe  glory  of  God 
X  above  all  selliBh  considerations,  which  he  preaches  to  others 
in  his  works,  he  here  shows  that  he  himself  experienced.  The 
joys  which  from  time  lo  time  sprang  up  in  his  soul,  in  view  of 
redeeming  mercy,  were  evidently  not  the  sell-crealed  comforla 
of  a  deceived  heart  that  had  never  been  truly  broken  for  sin,  but 
the  peace  of  God  which  cunie  to  fill  a  heart  purified  as  a  temple 
for  the  Most  High.  It  is  a  journal  which  every  minister  might 
study  with  profit ;  and  any  one  who  should  find  hie  mind  respond- 
ing to  these  profound  utterances  of  a  heavenly  mind,  might,  with- 
out rauchdangerof  disappointment,  hope  to  be  made  an  instrument 
of  promoting  the  glory  of  God  in  the  conversion  of  sinners. 

Upon  the  whole,  when  we  consider  the  rich  Chrblian  expe- 
rience which  llr.  Shepard  attained ;  the  sacrifices  which  l^e 
cheerfully  made  for  the  sake  of  Christ  and  the  gospel ;  the  great 
amount  of  ministerial  and  other  labor  which  he  .performed,  with 
feeble  health  and  manifold  hinderances  j  the  .attainments  which 
be  made  in  sanctity,  and  the  knowledge  of  divine  things ;  ilie 
able  theological  works  he  produced ;  and  th@  influence,  lelt  even 
now,  which  he  exerted  in  building  up  the  churches  of  New  Eng- 
land, — and  all  this  ere  he  had  passed  the  meridian  of  life,  —  we 
must  regard  him  as  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of  the  church) 
and  hold  hia  memory  in  profound  and  grateful  remembrance. 


J 


LIKE   OF   THOMAS  SllEi'ARll, 

(irgond  >nd  kind  he  ihc  Juil  itoudnnl  n-cmod  ; 

Dear  [a  the  best,  mid  tij  Ihs  wor^t  eslcoincit. 

llu  wil,  bii  judgiDVBI,  Icarning^.  cqu^  ruC) 

Divlnclj  hnmble,  jct  ditinely  wise ; 

He  triamphed  o'er  our  souls,  Bud,  al  his  will, 

Bid  ihis  louched  paseioD  riae,  and  that  b«  siill-, 

lleieoai'd  our  sodU,  and  made  them  sour  aborD, 

Winded  with  divine  dcsinu  aod  Ramcs  of  bciiveni/  love." 


Tilt  f'jiluiting  11  n  very  brlff  account  ojWr.  S/iejiariTs  Fumilif 
Vid   Writings  :  — 

Mr.  Shi-pard  left  tliree  sons:  — 

Thomas,  bom  April  o,  1635,  at  London  ;  gradualcd  nl  Iliir- 
Tard  College,  IGoS;  ordaiiiol  pastor  of  the  church  in  Charltu- 
toini,  April  13, 1650  ;  died  of  smull-pox,  December  22,  Hi77, 
I«ed43. 

Samvel,  bom  at  Cumbridge,  October  18,  Itiil ;  graduitlcd  at 
BnrTurd  College,  1658;  ordained  orer  the  ctiurdi  at  Rowley, 
M  its  third  piMtor,  1G65  ;  died  April  7,  16G8,  in  the  tiventy- 

L-cnlh  jear  of  his  age.       ^  u\^   l4   SaHf  V*|((j[  9  ^  tCt  e^H- 

JeRF.MlAll,  horn  August  II,  1G48;  grudunti>d  at  Harvard 
College,  1669;  ordwined  nt  Lynn,  October  6,  I67D;  died  June  2, 
1720,  aged  7%  aAcr  a  ministry  of  foHy-one  yeiirs. 

Mr.  Shopard's  third  wife,  Margaret  Itumilcl,  after  his  dentb, 
marmd  Jonntlina  Mitcbel,  his  successor  in  the  church  of  Cain- 
■     LriJj^.. 

Anntt,  the  daughter  of  Thomn<i  Shcpnrd  of  Charteslown,  iras 
mnrrieil,  in  IS82,  to  Daniel  (Jiiincy.  They  had  one  son,  named 
Juhn  Quincy,  burn  July  21,  16811.  Elizabeth,  the  daughter  of 
John  Quincy,  mnrrivd  Williara  Smith,  lite  minister  of  Weymouth. 
Abif^I,  the  daughter  of  Williuia  Smith,  married  John  Adnnia, 
•flm^Mrd  president  of  ihe  XJuited  Slal(-«,  and  was  the  mother 

ktX  John  Quincy  Adainsi.  who  was  thus  a  descendant,  in  the  ^ixih 
lenoniion,  from  Tliomas  Shcpard  of  Cambridge." 


*  Chronicles  of  Matuuhuiclts,  p.  9M,  note. 


Of  Bir.  SlicparJ's  books,  ihe  children  of  his  mind,  ihe  foUow- 
ing  ia  believed  to  be  a  lolerablj  correct  list,  with  the  dates,  so 
far  OS  known,  of  iLeir  respective  editions:  — 

1.  Sermons  on  Ttin:  Para.sle  or  the  Ten  Vibgiks.  FoUo, 
London,  1605. 

2.  Answer  to  Ball.     Quarto,  London,  1648. 

3.  Theses  Sabbatic-e.     Quarlo,  London,  1649. 

4.  Sincere  Convert.  London.  Several  editions,  —  the 
last,  London,  1G02. 

5.  Sound  BELievEit. 

6.  Church  Membership  of  Children.     Cambridge,  1GG3, 

7.  New  England's  Lamentation  for  Old  England's  Errors. 
Loudon,  1645. 

8.  Clear  Sunshine  of  the  Gospel  breaking  upon  the 
Indians.     London,  1648. 

9.  Select  Cases  Resolved.    London  and  Edinburgb,  1648. 

10.  The  Liturgical  Considerator,  in  reply  to  Dr.  Gauden. 
'  London,  1661. 

11.  Caution  AGAINST  Spiritual  Dkunkennebb  i  Sermon. 

12.  Subjection  to  Christ  in  all  his  Ordinances,  etc; 
tbe  best  way  to  preserve  liberty. 

13.  Inekfectual  Hearing  op  the  Word. 

14.  SiNoiNG  OF  Psalms  a  Gospel  Ordinance,  1647. 

15.  Meditations  and  Spiritual  Experiences.  A  Diary 
from  Novetnber,  1640,  to  December,  1641. 

16.  First  Principles  op  the  Oracles  of  God.  London 
and  F.dinburgh.  1648. 

17.  The  Saint's  Jkwel.     16mo.,  London,  1692. 

The  Bible  used  by  Mr.  She]Mird  is  in  the  popsession  of  ihe 
R«v.  William  Jenks,  D.  D.  Ii  has  ibe  HebfL-w  of  the  Old  Tes- 
tament, without  points,  and  the  Greek  of  the  New.  It  cxhibiis 
marks  of  use.  On  the  title  page,  at  the  bollom,  after  the  name 
of  a  previous  possessor,  is  Sbepard's  narne,  an  autograph,  thus : 
Thomas  Shepard.  ir  ifiioi!  Fufli.  Immauucl.  For  this  account 
of  Sbepard's  Bible  I  am  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  Rev.  Dr. 


THE 


SINCERE    CONVEET: 

DIBOOTBacrO  THE  81IAU.  NUXBBB  OF 

TRUE     BELIEVERS, 

▲XD  THE  GKBAT  DIFFICULTY  OF 

SAVING    CONVERSION; 

WHE&EIX   18   EXCELLENTLY  AND   PLAINLY  OPENED  THESE- 
CHOICE  AND  Dn'INE  PRINCIPLES  : 


1.  THAT  THERE  18  A  OOD,  AND  THIS  GOD  18  M08T  OLORIOU8. 

%  THAT  GOD  MADE  MAN  IN  A  BLE88ED  E8TATE. 

&  MAN*8  MISERY  BY  HIS  FALL. 

4.  CUEIST  THE  ONLY  REDEEMER  BY  PRICE. 

<w  THAT  FEW  ARE  SAVED,  AND  THAT  WITH  DIFFICULTY. 

9.  THAT  MAN*8  PERDITION  18  OF  HIMSELF. 


BY 

THOMAS    SHEPARD, 

CAMBRIDOE,   NEW   ENGLAND. 

CORRECTED   AND   AMENDEI^  BY   TUE   AUTHOR. 


*'  fltreii  ii  the  fate,  and  nanow  h  the  way,  which  leadeth  auto  lifi ; 
and  ftw  then  be  that  And  it.*^  Matt,  ril  14. 


BOSTON: 

DOCTRINAL  TRACT  AND  BOOK  SOCIETY. 

1853. 


) 


^^^^^^^^^^^^^ItM 

^W 

^^^*                       TO                                    ^^^^H 
CHRISTIAN     READER.           ■ 

In  these  evQ  and  perilous  times,  God  hath  not  left  lu  wilhont    i 
some  choice  mercies.     Our  sins  abound,  and  his  merciea  BUper- 
abound.     The  Lord  might  justly  have  spolien  those  words  of 
death  against  us  which  of  old  he  did  against  llie  Jews  —  I  have 
taken  away  my  peace  from    this  people,  loving  kindness  and 
mercies ;  which  had  he  pulled  from  us,  we  hod  cause  enough  to 

lies  wrapped  upiu  peace,  loving  kindness,  and  mercy.    But  God  is 

for  Jacob,  (Pa.  iliv.  4;)  he  overrules  all  the  powers  of  darknes-i, 
(P«.  Ixxri.  10,)  and  tells  the  sons  of   Belial  (men  of  corrupt 
minds  and  cursed  practice)  that  they  shall  proceed  no  furiher, 
but  that  their  folly  shaU  be  manifest  unto  all.  (2  Tim.  iii.  8,  9.) 
He  makes  all  enemies,  all  devils,  all  oreaiures  lo  further  hia  own  il 
glory,  and  the  good  of  his  peculiar  people.     ^\'hen  times  are  || 

Ihy  chambers,  and  shut  thy  doors  about  thee ;  hide  thyself,  as  it 
vcrv,  for  a  little  moment,  (ill  the  indignation  be  overpast.  (Isa. 
xxTi.  10.)    If  troubles  threaten  life,  he  sailh,  •'  When  thou  passest 
through  the  waters,  I  will  be  with  thee,  and  through  the  rivers, 
Ihey  shall  not  overflow  thee  ;   when  thou  walkest  through   ihe 
Bre,  ibou  shalt  not   be   burnt,  neilher  *hall  the  Ba:nes    kindle 
upon  thee;  for  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God."  (Isa.  xliii.  3.)     When       M 

•  Fear  thou  not,  for  I  am  with  Iheo;  be  not  dismayed,  for  I  am       | 

4  TO    THE   CHRISTIAN    READKR. 

tliy  GucI ;  I  will  atrengtLen  thee,  I  will  help  Hiov  -.  yva,  I  will  up- 
hold thee  with  llie  rigiil  liaud  of  my  riglileousne^^.  Behold,  all 
they  that  were  incensed  against  lliee  shall  be  ashamed  nnd  con- 
founded, they  shall  be  as  nothing;  and  they  that  strive  with  ihee 
yshall  perish."  (Isa.  xl.  10, 11.)  Such  words  of  comfort  and  life 
doth  God  speak  unto  hid.  And  among  other  mercies,  he  stirs 
up  the  spirits  of  his  servants  to  write  many  precious  truths  and 
tracts,  to  further  the  everlasting  good  of  his  beloved  ones.  If 
the  bottomless  pit  be  open,  and  smoke  rise  thcnec,  to  darken  the 
lur  and  obscure  the  way  of  the  saints,  (Rev.  v.  2,)  heaven  also  is 
opened,  (Itev.  xi.  19,)  and  there  are  lightnings  and  voices,  to  en- 
lighten their  spirits  and  direct  their  paths.  Had  ever  any  age 
such  lightnings  as  we  lukve  ?  Did  ever  any  speak,  since  Christ 
tmd  his  apostles,  as  men  now  speak  ?  We  may  truly  and  safely 
say  of  our  divines  and  writers.  The  voice  of  God,  and  not  of 
nuto :  such  abundance  of  the  Spirit  bath  God  poured  into  some 
men,  that  it  is  not  they,  but  the  Spirit  of  the  Father  that  speaks 

What  infinite  catise  hath  this  age  to  acknowledge  the  unspeak- 
able mercy  of  God  in  affording  us  such  plenty  of  spiritual  trac- 
tates, full  of  divine,  necessary,  and  conscience -search  itkg  truths, 
yea,  precious,  soul-comforting,  and  soul-improving  truths !  such 
whereby  head,  heart,  and  soul-cheating  errors  are  discovered  and 
prevented ;  such  as  soundly  ditTercnce  true  grace  from  all  secm- 
ings  and  paintings.  No  time,  no  nation,  exceeds  m  herein.  And 
shall  wc,  that  abound  in  truths,  be  penurious  in  praises  ?  Con- 
. ,  aider,  reader,  whether  spiritual  truths  be  not  worthy  of  thy 
choicest  praises.  Every  divine  trutli  is  one  of  God's  eternal 
tlioughls ;  it  is  heaven  bom,  and  bears  the  ima^  of  God. 
Truth  is  the  glory  of  the  sacred  Trinity.  Hence  the  Spirit  is  called 
Truth,  (John  xvi.  13,)  Christ  is  called  Troth,  (John  xiv.  6,)  aud 
God  himself  is  stud  to  be  the  God  of  truth.  (Deut  xxxii,  4.)  It 
is  BO  delightful  to  him,  that  his  eyes  are  always  upon  the  truth. 
(Jer.  V.  3.)  And  when  the  only-wise  God  would  have  men  make 
a  purchoae,  he  counsels  them  to  buy  the  truth.  And  is  it  not  good 
Is  it  not  a  good  purchase  ?      Can  you  bestow  your 


TO   THE    CnRISTU><    RKADER.  5 

patDii  or  Iny  oui  your  money  belter  ?  If  you  be  dead  in  sins  and 
trespBSBes.  iruth  is  the  seed  of  a  new  life,  of  a  hearenly  birth. 
(James  i.  18^  If  you  be  in  any  bondage,  tnitk  can  make  you 
free.  (JoLn  viii.  32.)  If  compassed  about  wilh  enemies,  truth 
can  Pbield  thee.  (Ps.  xei.  4.)  If  you  be  full  of  filthy  thoughts 
and  lusts,  or  any  impui'ities,  tlie  truth  can  sanctify  you.  (John 

ivii,  IT.)  If  darkness  and  faintness  possess  your  soiiU,  truth  is 
lumm  el  pabulum   aniiiuc —  "the  light  and  life  of   the  soul." 

(P*.exis.  105.) 

Let  U9,  then,  advance  our  thoughts  uf  truth,  and  rate  it  above 
all  sublunary  ihingit,  and  buy  it,  though  it  cost  us  all.  It  is  no 
nmony,  it  is  not  loo  dear ;  you  i;annut  overvalue  truth.  It  is 
r  to  the  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding.  Sea 
bow  God  himself  estimates  his  word  and  truth.  (Ps.  exxxviii.  2,) 
"  Thou  hast  magni6ed  thy  word  above  all  thy  name."  Whatso- 
ever God  is  known  by,  beside  hij.  word,  is  beneath  his  word. 
Take  thu  whole  creation,  whioh  is  God's  name  in  the  grealestv.! 
letters,  it  is  nothing  to  his  word  and  iruih.  Therefore  Christ 
'  tells  the  Pharisees,  il  is  easier  for  heaven  and  earth  lo  puss  than 
one  tittle  of  the  law  to  fail.  If  the  least  Jut  or  tittle  of  the  law 
be  prised  by  God  above  all  the  world,  let  us  take  heed  of  under* 
valuing  the  great  and  glorious  truths  of  the  gospel,  and  settle  it 

a  a  law  upon  our  hearts  that  we  can  never  overprize  or  yield 
sufficient  praise  for  any  truth.  Men  can  praise  God  for  the  bless- 
ings of  the  field,  the  seas,  the  worob,  and  of  their  shops ;  but 
where  is  the  man  that  praises  God  for  his  blessing  of  blessings 
- — for  TacTH  —  for  good  books,  for  heavenly  treatises  ?f  Men  / 
seldom  purposely  lift  up  iheir  hearts  luid  vui(H.'S  lo  heaven,  to 
praise  God  for  ihe  riches  of  ktiowk-<lge  lie:jlowed  u{>on  them. 
In  good  bookH  you  have  men's  labor  and  God's  truth.  The 
tribute  of  tlianks  is  due  fur  both,  llial  God  enables  men  to  so 
it  l&bors,  and  that  he  conveys  such  precious  treasures  through 
earthen  veuelj*.  Duvid  thought  it  bis  duty  to  praise  God  for 
truth,  (P&.  cxxxviii.  2.)  and  hath  lell  it  on  record  for  our  imita- 
tion. He  saw  such  exiwUcncy.  and  found  so  much  sweet  gain  in 
Iroth,  that  be  roust  break  out  in  praises  for  iL 
1' 


6  TO   THK   CHKISTIAN   KKAPtR. 

Reader,  give  ovpr  llij  old  way  of  sligliling  anJ  ci'nsuring 
men's  tabors.  Experience  hath  long  since  (old  ihee,  that  no  good 
cumes  that  viay.  Now  learn  to  turn  Ihy  prejudices  iulo  praises, 
and  prove  what  ivill  be  the  iruit  of  hotxiring  and  praisiug  God 
/or  truths  dii<pc-niieil  by  his  faithful  servants.     Let  me  tell  tbee, 

V  this  is  a  chief  way  to  keep  truth  still  among  us.  If  truthit  be 
not  received  with  the  love  of  them,  and  God  honored  for  tbem, 
presently  strong  delusions  come,  and  truth  must  suffer  or  fly. 
God  hath  mude  good  that  promise  in  Jeremy.  He  hath  revealed 
liDio  us  abundance  of  pence  and  truth ;  and  we,  through  ingrati- 
tude, have  forfeited  both.  Our  peace  is  sliaken  ;  and  who  can 
promise  himself,  with  Iluzekiah,  There  shall  be  peace  and  truth 

\J  Id  my  days  ?  Peaec  may  fail  ihee,  but  let  not  truth.  Kverj 
good  Christian  may  and  should  say,  with  the  good  king.  There 
shall  be  truth  in  my  days,  if  not  ptaee  and  truth.  I  will  so  far 
honor  truth,  as  to  receive  tlie  love  of  it.  I  will  hold  it  fast  by  faith, 
hold  it  forth  by  practice,  praise  God  daily  for  it,  and  venture  all 
in  defence  of  iL  So  did  the  martyrs,  whose  memory  is  sweet, 
and  whose  regard  is  great.  It  is  belter  suffering  for  truth  than 
with  truth :  yet  if  truth  must  siiiTer,  or  can  die,  better  it  is  to 
die  with  truth  than  outlive  it.  But  that  truth  may  live,  and  we 
live  by  truth,  let  us  magnify  God  much  for  truth,  for  his  word 
and  good  books  tliat  spring  thence.  Some  probably  may  say, 
It's  enough  to  praise  God  for  his  wonl.  Other  books  are  not  tanti. 
Wilt  thou  praise  God  for  tlie  sea,  and  be  unthankful  for  the 
rivers  and  springs  ?  Wilt  thou  iih  up  thy  voice  for  the  great 
waters,  anil  be  silent  for  the  silver  drops  and  flowers?  If  the 
former  rain  aflect  ihee,  be  not  ungrateful  for  the  latter.  God 
would  have  man  to  value  his  servants,  ajid  praise  him  for  their 
labors.  But  they  have  errors  in  ihero.  Be  it  so.  Shall  we 
refuse  to  praise  God  for  the  llowera  and  the  eoni,  because  there 
be  some  weeds  in  the  garden,  and  thistles  in  the  field  ?  Prejudice 
not  thyself:  buy,  read,  take  thy  delight.  Here  is  a  garden 
I  vitbout  weeds,  a  cornfield  without  cockle  or  darnel,  thorn  or 
thistle.  Art  thou  a  tinfere  convert  f  Here  arc  truths  suitable, 
solid,  and  wholesome.     Tlmu  mayest  feed  and  feast  without  fear. 


eed  and  least  without  tear.     ■ 


The  aiithoi-  is  one  of  singular  pieiy,  inward  iicqimintance  w.-,.      _ 
God,  skilled  in  tlte  deceits  of  men's  hearts,  able  tu  cnlightt^n  the  ^fl 
dnrk  corners  of  the  little  world,  and  to  give  eaiisfiiution  to  stag- 
gering spirits.     Hii  wwk  in,edmiul  ihi.  [luiplu  u(  iiLLULhm'inunr 

1  rut li'a  [iLfiugiitirg  to'lrmel  wllllUlIt  mwwrartr) 1  imj  ,  Ijul'jiuju 


•Aidnto 


f  the  work  id  weighty,  quick,  and  spiritual.  And  if 
Ihioc  eye  be  single  in  perusing  it,  thou  shall  iind  mnny  precious, 
Roul-Marching,  soul-quickening,  and  Houl-cnriching  truths  in  it ; 
yea,  be  »o  warned  and  awakened,  ai  that  thou  canst  not  butbleu^ 
God  for  the  man  and  matter,  unless  thou  be  pa'^cssed  with  a 
dumb  devil. 

To  conclude:  Christian  reader,  tahe  heed  of  a n thank fidnesa. ^ 
Spiritual  mercies  should  have  the  quickest  and  fullest  praises.  - 
Such  is  this  work ;  thou  foresawest  it  not,  thou  coutributest 
nothing  lo  the  birth  of  it-  It  is  preventing  mercy.  By  it,  and 
other  of  the  same  nature,  God  hath  made  knowledge  to  abound; 
tlie  waters  of  the  sanctuary  are  daily  increased,  and  grown  deep, 
Let  not  the  waters  of  the  iwnctaary  put  out  the  tire  of  the  sanc- 
tuary. If  there  be  no  praise,  there  is  no  lire.  If  ihy  head  be 
like  a  winter  sun,  full  of  light,  and  heart  like  a  winter's  earth, 
without  fruit,  fear  lest  thy  light  end  in  utter  darkness,  and  the 
tree  of  knowledge  deprive  thee  of  the  tree  of  life.  The  Lord 
grant  thou  mayest  iind  such  benefit  by  this  work  b 
k^ttrt  may  be  ravished  with  truth,  and  raised  to  prn 
purpose,  and  made  to  pray,  I^rd,  still  Rend  forth  : 
tmth.  tliat  lh(-y  may  lead  us.     So  prays 

Thine  in  ChrLnt. 

W.    GREl£\HtLL. 


9  that  thy 
raise  God  to 
Ihy  light  and 


INTRODUCTION. 


vfllE 


'tiK  knowlcd;^  of  divinity  is  neressary  for  all  sorte  of  men  — 
both  to  settle  and  eslAhlish  the  good,  and  to  convert  and  felcb  in 
the  bnd.  God's  principles  pull  down  Satan's  ftilae  principles  aet 
up  in  man's  head,  loved  and  believed  with  men's  hearts,  and 
defended  by  iheir  tongues.  Whilst  strongholds  remain  unshaken, 
the  Lord  Jesus  is  kepi  off  from  conquering  of  the  soul. 

Now,  spiritual  truths  arc  either  surh  as  tend  to  enlarge  the 
Boderslandin";.  or  such  as  may  work  chiefly  upon  the  affect  Ions. 
I  pass  by  (in  this  knowing  age)  the  first  of  these,  and.  being 
among  a  people  whose  heuHs  are  hard  enough,  I  begin  with  the 
latter  sort ;  for  the  understanding,  although  it  may  literally,  yet 
_^ly.  entertains  any  truth,  until  the  aifections  be 
herewith  smitten  and  wrought  upon. 

I  shall,  therefore,  here  prosecute  the  unfolding  of  these  divine 
principles:  — 

First,  that  there  is  one  most  glorious  God, 

Secondly,  that  tliis  God  made  all  mankind  at  Hrsl  in  Adam  in 
a  most  glorious  entate. 

Thirdly,  that  all  mankind  is  now  fallen  from  that  estate  into  a 
bottomless  gulf  of  sin  and  misery. 

Fourthly,  that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  the  only  means  of 
redemption  of  this  estnie. 


Fifthly,  that  those  that  arc  saved  out  of  this  woful  estate  by 
Christ  are  very  few,  and  that  these  few  are  saved  with  much 
'  difficulty. 


/  Christ  i 
lifflCTilty. 
"  Sixthly, 


id  that  these  few  are  saved  with  much 
many  die  and  perish 


hly,  that  the  greatest  causi 
ip  this  estate  is  from  ihemselvee  : 
J   1.  By  reason  of  their  bloody  ignomnsf,  they  ki 


t  their 


misery 


/2.  By  reason  of  their  carnal  BecurJtY,  ihey  feel  not,  they  gn>an 
not  under  their  sin  and  mUery. 

3.  By  reason  of  their  carnal  confidence,  ihey  seek  10  help 
Ihemselvee  out  of  their  misery  by  their  own  duties,  when  they 
see  or  feel  it ;  or,  — 

4.  By  reason  of  their  false  faith,  whereby  iliej'  catch  hold 
upon,  and  trust  unto,  the  merits  of  Christ  too  soon,  when  t^y 
nee  and  feel  they  cannot  help  themselves.  . 


THE    SINCERE    CONVERT. 

DISCOVERING   THE    SMALL   NUMBER    OF   TROE 
BELIEVERS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THAT  TBEKE  IS  A  GOD,  ADD  THIS  GOD  IS  HOST  QLORIOUS. 

Exod.  xxiiii.  18,  "  I  beaeech  Ihce,  ihour  ma  lb<t  glor?-" 

This  b  the  firat  divine  truth,  and  there  are  tiiese  two  parts 
considerable  in  it: — 
,  1.  That  there  is  a  God. 
'  2.  Thai  this  God  is  most  glorious. 

I  will  bc^R  with  the  first  pnri,  and  prove,  omitting  manj  phil- 
osophical arguments,  that  there  is  n  God — a  true  God;  for 
erery  nation  almost  in  the  world,  until  Christ's  coming,  had  a 
several  god.  Some  worshiped  the  snn,  some  the  moon,  —  called 
by  Ecekiet  the  Queen  of  Ile-aven,  which  some  made  cakes  unto, 
—  some  [he  whole  heavens,  some  worshiped  the  fire,  some  the 
,  brute  beasts,  some  Baal,  and  some  Molech.  The  Romans,  sailh 
Varro,  had  six  ihousond  gods :  who,  imprisoning  the  light  of 
nature,  were  given  up  to  sins  against  nature,  cither  lo  worship 
idols  of  man's  invention,  as  the  ignorant,  or  God  and  angels  in 
those  idoU,  as  the  learned  did.     But  these  urc  all  false  gods. 

I  am  nyw  to  prove  that  there  is  one  true  God,  the  Being  of 
being*,  or  the  Arst  being.  Although  the  proving  of  this  point 
ms  needless,  because  every  man  runs  with  the  cry  and  failli, 
rrc  is  a  Ood.yet  few  ihgroughlj  believe  this  poiat-  Many 
lef  the  children  otGod.  Wlio  areTiest  aUcloTtnow  men's  hciirti, 
Ibceause  ihey  only  study  tlieir  hearts,  feel  ihix  lemptaiion.  Is 
there  a  God?  bitterly  assaulting  them  sometimes.  The  devil 
wBI  sometimes  uadermine.  and  «eek  to  blow  up,  the  strongest 
walls  and  bulwarks.     The  tight  of  nature  indeed  shows  that 


10  TIIK   aiN'CGIte   CONTKRT, 

there  19  n  GoU ;  but  lion-  man;  are  Ihere  (lint,  by  TdiiI  gini 
ngainsi  their  conscience,  blow  out  and  fxtinn:iii»li  nlnio:;!  nil  Ihe 
'  I  lipht  of  nature !  ami  bencc,  though  tbey  ilHre  not  conclude, 
Iieoauae  tbey  have  some  light,  Chough  dim,  yet,  if  ihey  saw  their 
heart,  they  nut^lit  ecc  it  !-ccrctly  suspect  and  question  whether 
there  be  a  God.  But  grant  that  none  questions  this  truth,  yet 
we  that  are  builders  must  not  full  to  a  work  without  our  main 
props  and  pillars.  It  may  appear,  tbcrcfore,  that  there  is  a 
God  from  these  grounds  :  — 

First,  from  the  worka  of  God.  fRom.  i.  20.)  When  we  see  a 
ptatcly  house,  although  we  see  not  the  man  that  built  it,  although 
also  we  know  not  the  lime  when  it  was  built,  yet  will  ne  con- 
clude thus  ;  Surely  some  wise  ariilicer  hath  been  working'faere. 
Can  we,  when  we  behold  the  stalely  theater  of  heaven  and 
earth,  conclude  other  hut  that  the  finger,  arms,  and  wisdom  of 
God  bath  been  here,  although  -we  see  not  him  that  is  invisible, 
and  although  we  know  not  the  time  when  he  began  to  build  ? 
Every  creature  in  heaven  and  earth  ia  a  loud  preacher  of  this 
truth.  Who  set  those  candles,  those  torches  of  heaven,  on  the 
table  ?  Who  hung  out  those  lanterns  in  heaven  to  enlighten  a 
dark  world  ?  Who  can  moke  the  statue  of  a  man,  but  one 
wiser  than  the  stone  out  of  which  it  is  hewn  ?  Could  any  frame 
a  man  but  otie  wiser  and  greater  than  man  ?  Wlio  taught  the 
birds  to  build  iheir  nests,  and  the  bees  to  set  up  and  order  iheir 
commonwealth  ?  Who  sends  the  Bun  post  from  one  end  of 
heaven  to  tlie  other,  carrying  so  many  thousand  blessings  to  so 
many  thousands  of  people  and  kingdoms  ?  What  power  of  man 
or  angels  can  make  the  ienst  pile  of  grass,  or  put  life  into  the 
least  fly,  if  once  dead  ?  There  is,  therefore,  a  power  above  all 
created  i>ower,  which  is  God, 

^^^n'^lyi  from  ibg  woni  of  Gyl.    There  is  such  a  majestr 

stirring,  and  such  secrets  revealed  in  the  word,  that,  if  men  wiU 

not  be  wilfully  blind,  they  cannot  but  cry  out,  "The  voice  of 

God,  and  not  the  voice  of  man."     Hence  Calvin  undertakes  to 

j)rove  Ihe  Scripture  to  be  the  word  of  God   by  ren89^,.maingfc 

I  all  atheists  under  heaven.     Host  thou  not  thought  sometimes,  at 

I  B  sermon,  the  minister  liatli  spoken  to  none  but  thee,  and  that 

I  some  or  other  hath  told  the  minister  what  thou  hast  said,  what 

,  V  thou  hast  done,  what  ihou  hast  thought?    Now,  that  word  which 

'  tells  thee  the  thoughts  of  thy  heart  can  be  nothing  else  but  the 

word  of  an  all'Sceing  God,  lliat  ftearcheth  the  heart. 

Again  t  that  word  which  quickeneth  Ihe  dead  is  certainlj', 
Qod's  woni ;  but  the  word  of  God  ordinarily  prenclted  quicken* 
eth  the  dead ;  it  raakelh  the  blind  lo  see,  the  dumb  to  Fipenk,  tho 


I 
1 


Tllk   HlNCERi:    CUNVeitT.  U 

deaf  lo  hear,  llie  lume  to  wulk,  llioac  ihnL  nuver  fell  iheir  siii»  to 
[  load  iliciu  to  mourn,  those  that  never  could  pi'uy  to  brt»th«  out 
uuuttentble  groans  and  sighs  for  ilieir  sins. 

Thirdly,  froru  the  children  begolleii  of  Goil ;  for  we  may 
read  in  tnen'tt  foreheads,  as  aoon  as  ever  Ihcy  are  bora,  the  sen- ' 
tence  of  death ;  and  WQ_mav  see  by  men'a  IJTea  what  hi!llis|^ 
hofia  lliey  have.  Now,  there  is  a  lime  that  soirifl  Of  Itrls  oiop- 
Btroua  Drood  ol'  men  are  quite  changed,  and  made  all  new  ;  they 
nave  new  minds,  new  opinions,  new  desires,  new  joys,  new  sor- 
rows, new  speeches,  new  prayers,  new  lives,  and  sucb  a  diBer- 
ence  there  is  betwixt  these  and  others,  that  they  are  baled  by 
Mher^  who  lored  them  well  while  ibey  loved  their  sins.  And 
whence  came  thb  strange  cbntige  ?  Is  it  from  themselves  ?__ 
No ;  for  tbey  hated  this  new  life  and  these  new  men  once  them- 
•elves.  Is  it  because  they  would  be  credited  thereby  ?  No  ;  it 
is  to  be  haled  of  father,  mother,  friends,  and  maligned  ■very 
vherc.  Is  it  out  of  simplicity,  or  arc  their  bnuns  grown  crazy  ? 
They  were  indeed  once  tools,  and  I  can  prove  them  all  to  be 
Solomon's  fools ;  but  even  simple  men  have  been  known  to  be 
more  wise  for  the  world,  after  they  have  been  made  new.  But, 
lastly,  is  it  now  from  a  slavish  lear  of  hell,  which  works  ihis^ 
aJieralion?  Nothing  lesa"  Ib^^'Ibhor  K5  Uve  like  slaves  in_J 
Bridewell,  to  do  all  for  feur  of  the  whip. 

Fourthly,  from  G9d's  repia^cr.  or  nomrv,  which  is  in  everyA 
man  ;  I  mean,  the  conscience  of  man,  which  telleth  them  there  I  * 
fa  a  God;  and  all  hough  they  silence  it  sometimes,  .yet  in  time  ofj 
thunder,  or  some  great  plague,  as  Pharaoh,  or  at  the  day  of  death, 
then  tbey  are  near  God's  tribunal,  when  they  acknowledge  him 
dearly.  The  fearful  terrors  of  conscience  prove  this,  which,  like 
R  bailifT,  arrests  men  for  their  debts  ;  ergo,  there  is  some  creditor 
lo  set  it  on  :  sometimes,  like  a  hangman,  it  torments  men ;  ergo, 
there  is  some  strange  judge  that  gave  it  that  command.  Whence 
•rise  ihote  dreadful  terrors  in  men  ?  Uf  thera^lves  ?  No,  surely ; 
all  desire  tu  be  in  peace,  and  so  to  live  and  sleep  in  a  whole  skin. 
Cornea  it  from  melancholy?  No  ;  fur  melancholy  comes  on  by 
degrees ;  these  terrors  of  conscience  surprise  the  soul  suddenlyh 
M  a  sermon,  suddenly  after  tlie  cummissioa  of  some  secret  foull 
sin.  A)^n:  melancholy  sadness  may  be  cured  by  physic;  butf 
many  physicians  have  given  such  men  over  to  other  physicians. 
Jlelanchuly  sadness  may  be  borne,  but  a  wounded  spirit  who  can 
.(ear?     Thus  you  see  that  there  is  a  God. 

Otff'tettmi.    Who  ever  saw  God,  thai  every  one  is  thus  bold  lo 
tfSrm  that  Ihere  is  a  God  ? 

Anmetr.  Indeed,  his  face  never  was  seen  by  moiTal  man,  but  his 


12  THE    diyCKRE   COSVtHT. 

buck  pails  liiive  been  seen,  are  seen,  find  may  be  seeu  by  all  ihe  - 
world,  aa  hutb  been  proved. 

Objtet.  All  things  are  brought  to  pajB  hy  second  i-auses. 

An»,  1.  Wlint  though?  Is  there  no  master  in  the  lionse, 
because  the  serTants  do  all  Ihe  work  ?  Tliis  great  God  maintaioa 
state  by  doing  all  the  creatures  subjection  i  yet  sometimes  we 
may  cry  out  in  beholding  some  specialjF''''''  "f  hiL^jj^"'^*"*" 


tjon,  llerc  is  the  finger  of  (JoJ. 

it.  What  though  Uiere  be^ioh  confusion  in  the  world  us  that 
shillings  stand  for  pence,  and  counters  stand  tor  pounds,  the  best 
men  are  bought  and  sold  at  &  low  rate,  and  worst  men  prized 
and  preferred  ;  yet  if  we  had  eyes  lo  see  and  conceive,  we  should 
.  see  aiiapiioiij:  in  this  diacord  of  things.  Ood  is  now  like  a  wise 
carpenter,  but  hewing  out  his  work.  There  is  a  lumber  and  con- 
fusion seemingly  among  us ;  let  us  stay  till  the  day  of  judgment, 
and  then  we  shall  see  infinite  wisdom  in  fitting  all  tliia  for  ilia 
own  glory,  and  for  the  good  of  his  people. 

Object.  But  if  there  be  a  God,  why  hears  he  not  his  people's 
prayers  ?  Why  doth  he  forgot  them  when  they  have  most  need 
of  him? 

I  answer.  Noah's  dove  returns  not  presently  with  an  olive 
branch  of  peace  in  his  moulh.  Prayer  sometimes  that  speeds 
well  returns  not  presently,  for  want  of  company  enough  lo  fiitch 
away  tliHt  abundance  of  mercy  which  God  halb  to  give.  The 
Lord  ever  gives  them  their  asking  in  money  or  money  worth,  in 
Ihe  same  thing  or  a  better.  The  Lord  ever  ^vcs  his  importunate 
beggars  their  desires,  either  in  pence  by  little  and  little,  or  by 
.  pounds  ;  long  he  is  many  times  before  he  gii'es,  but  payeth  them 
w  well  for  their  waiting. 

This  is  a  use  of  reproof  to  all  atheists  either  in  opinion  or 

First.  In  opinion  ;  such  as  eltlicr  conclude  or  suspect  there 
is  no  God.  O,  blasphemous  thoughts !  Are  there  any  suck 
men?  3Ien  I  nny,  beasts;  nay,  devils  ;  nay,  worse  than  devils,  for 
they  believe  and  tremble.  Yet  the  fool  hath  sud  in  his  liear^ 
,  There  is  no  God.  (Ps.  xiv.  1.)  Men  that  have  little  heads,  liule 
knowledge,  without  hearts,  ai  seholurs  sometimes  of  weak  brains, 
being  guided  only  by  their  books,  seeing  how  things  come  by 
second  causes,  yet  cannot  raise  Iheir  dull  thoughts  to  ihe  beholi- 
ing  of  a  first  cause.  Great  politicians  arc  like  children,  always 
standirigon  Iheir  heads,  and  shaking  their  heeb  against  heaven 
these  think  religion  to  be  but  a  piece  of  policy,  to  keep  people  ii 
awe  :  profune  persons  desiring  to  go  on  in  sin,  without  any  mb 
orclteck  for  sin,  blow  out  all  ihe  light  of  nature,  wishing  there 


I 


rilK   sl.S'CtllC    UUNVtKT.  I^ 

Vcre  no  God  to  punish,  and  thererorc  willing  [o  suspect  aad 
scruple  ihnt  not  to  be  which  indeed  i^.  Those  also  thut  hare 
■tuned  secretly,  though  not  openly  against  nature,  or  the  light  of 
conscience.  Uod  smites  men  for  incest,  aodomy,  felf-poUutioDi  V' 
wllb  dismal  blindness.  Those  also  iha;  are  notorious  worldings, 
that  look  no  higher  than  their  bams,  no  farther  than  their  shops ; 
Ihe  world. u  ft  pearl  io  their  eye;  ihey  can  not  see  a  God. 

Ijtksdy.  I  su.4ficct  lhosi>  men  that  never  found  out  this  thief, 
thia  sin,  that  was  bred  and  born  with  ihem,  nor  saw  it  In  their 
own  b carta,  but  there  it  lies  still  in  »oiue  dark  comer  of  their 
•ouU.  to  cut  their  throats  —  these  kind  of/men  soinelinics  suspect 
there  is^u  God.  O,  this  is  a  grievous  Bin !  for  if  no  God,  no 
heaven,  no  hell,  no  martyrs,  no  prophets,  no  Scriptures.  Christ. 
waa  then  a  horrible  liar,  and  an  impostor.  Other  ains  wrong  and 
grieve  God,  and  wound  him,  but  this  sin  stabs  the  very  heart  of 
God  :  it  strikes  nt  the  life,  and  is  (as  much  ns  lies  in  sinful  man) 
the  death  of  God  ;  fur  it  saith.  There  is  no  Gnl. 

Secondly.  Tliis  reproveth  atheists  in  practice,  which  say 
there  is  a  God,  nnd  <iuustion  it  not,  but  in  works  they  deny  b'tn,. 
He  that  plucks  the  king  from  his  thronr~»ras  vile  as  he  Hint 
•aitli  he  is  no  king.  These  men  are  almost  as  bad  as  aliieists  in 
opinion.  And  of  such  dust  heaps  we  may  find  in  every  comer, 
that  in  then-  practice  deny  God  ;  men  that  set  up  other  gods  in 
Gud'g  room ;  their  wealth,  their  honor,  their  pleasure,  their  backs 
and  bellies  to  be  their  gods ;  men  that  make  bold  to  do  that 
■gainst  this  true  God  which  idolaters  dare  not  do  against  their 
idol  gods;  and  that  is,  continually  to  wrong  this  Gol ;  men  tliat 
seek  not  for  all  ihey  want  by  prayer,  nor  return  all  back  again 
to  God  by  praise. 

A  socond  use  is,  for  exhortation-  G,  labor  to  cce  and  behold 
this  God.  Is  there  a  Go<l,  and  wilt  tliou  not  give  him  a  good 
look  ?  O,  pass  by  all  the  rivers,  till  thou  come  to  the  »pnng 
head  :  wiidu  through  all  creatures,  until  tliou  art  drowned,  plunged 
and  swallowed  up  wiili  God.  When  thou  seest  the  heavens,  say. 
Where  is  iliai  great  Builder  that  made  this?  When  thou  hearest 
of  mutations  of  kingdoms,  say.  Where  is  the  Lord  of  hosts,  the 
grvat  Captain  of  these  armies?  When  thou  tastest  sweetness  tn 
the  creature,  or  in  God's  ordinances,  say,  Where  is  sweetness  it- 
self, beauty  itself?  Where  is  the  sea  of  these  drops,  the  sun  of 
these  b«aiaa  ?  O  that  men  saw  this  God !  it's  heaven  to  behold 
hitni  thou  art  then  in  a  comer  of  hell,  that  canst  not,  dost  not 
•eolniii:  and  yet  what  is  less  known  tlinn  (iod?  Melhinks, 
when  men  hear  tliere  b  a  God  about  lliera,  they  shuutd  lie  grovel-  ^ 
in{  In  the  dust,  because  of  his  glory.  If  men  did  sec  hini,  they 
VOL.  I.  i 


would  s[.eiik  of  liini.  Wlio  sjwaks  of  God  ?  Noy,  men  can  not 
speak  lo  God  ;  but  as  beggars  have  learnt  lo  ■.-ant,  ao  many  a 
nmo  to  pray.  O,  men  pee  not  God  in  prayer ;  llierefore  they  ciin 
not  apeak  to  God  by  prayer.  Men  sin  and  God  frown!:,  (wliich 
makes  ihe  devils  lo  quake  ;)  yet  men's  hearts  shake  not,  because 
they  see  him  not. 

^CTe-37~0,"niiike  choice  of  ihig.God  as  tliy  God.  What  though 
there  be  a  God ;  if  it  be  notlTiyCJod,  what  art  tLou  the  better  ? 
Down  with  all  thy  idol  gods,  and  set  up  this  God.  If  there  be 
any  creature  that  ever  did  thee  any  good,  that  God  set  not  a 
work  for  thy  good,  love  iliat ;  think  on  that  aa  thy  God.  If  there 
he  any  thing  that  can  give  ihee  any  succor  on  thy  death  bed, 
or  when  thou  art  departed  from  this  world,  take  that  lo  be  thy 
God.  Thou  mightest  have  been  bom  in  India,  and  never  have 
heard  the  true  God.  but  worshiped  the  devil  for  thy  god.  O, 
therefore,  make  choice  of  him  alone  to  be  thy  God ;  give  away 
thyself  wholly  and  forever  to  him,  and  he  will  give  away  his 
whole  self  everlasting  unto  thee.  Seek  him  weeping,  and  thou 
■halt  find  him.  Bind  tliyself  by  the  strongest  oaths  and  bonds  in 
covenant  to  be  his,  and  he  will  enter  into  covenant  with  thee,  and 
so  be  thine.  (Jer.  1. 3, 5.) 

The  fourth  use  b,  a  use  of  comfort  to  them  that  forsake  all  for 
this  God.  Thou  hast  not  lost  all  for  nought,  thou  hast  not  cast  away 
substance  for  shadows,  but  shadows  for  somewhat.  (Prov.  viti.  IS.) 
When  all  comfort  is  gone,  there  is  a  God  to  comfort  thee.  When 
thou  hast  no  reat  here,  there  is  a  God  lo  rest  in ;  when  thou  art 
dead,  he  can  quicken  Ihee ;  when  thou  art  weak,  he  is  strong ; 
and  when  friends  are  gone,  he  will  be  a  sure  one  to  thee. 

Thus  much  of  the  first  part  of  this  doctrine,  or  divine  truth, 
Hal  there  ii  a  God.  Now,  it  followeth  to  show  you  that  this  God 
is  a  mart  ffloriout  God,  and  that  in  four  things  he  is  glorious. 

1.  In  his  essence.  2.  In  his  attribntes.  3.  In  his  persons. 
4.  In  his  works. 

1.  He  is  glorious  in  his  essence.  Now,  what  this  gtory  is  no 
man  or  angel  hath,  doth,  or  ever  shall  know;  their  cockle  shell 
can  never  comprehend  this  sea ;  he  must  have  Ihe  wisdom  of 
God,  and  so  be  a  God,  that  eomprehendeth  the  essence  of  God  ; 
but  though  it  con  not  be  com|irehended  what  it  is,  yet  it  may  fw 
apprehended  that  it  is  incompreheipsible  and  glorious ;  which 
makes  his  glory  to  be  the  moFe  aJmired,  as  we  ail  in  ire  the  lusler 
of  the  sun  the  more  in  that  it  is  so  great  we  can  not  behold  It. 

2.  God  is  glorious  in  his  attributes,  which  arc  those  divina 
perfections  whereby  he  makes  himself  known  unio  ua.     Whii 
attributes  are  not  qualities  in  God>  butjatures.     God's  wisdj 


VTii(^ 


TBK  StXCERE    COXTERT.  15 

God  himseir,  and  God's  poweris  God  himself,  etc     Neiiher  are  i< 
iJhc'T  divers  ihinga  in  God,  but  tliej  are  divers  only  in  regard  of  U 

■jderelaading,  and  in  regard  of  their  different  efieris  on  dif-  I 

1  objfcU.     God  piinishiog  itie  wicked  is  the  jiistic-e  of  .God  ;  \ 
God  coiiiposaioniitiug  the  miserable  is  the  mercy  of  God. 

Now,  tlie  attrihuteii  nf  God,  omiltiiig  curious   divisions,  are  - 
these: — 

lie  is  a  SpirlL  or  a  spiritual  God,  (John  iv.  34 ;)  therefore 
•bhore  all  worship,  and  all  duties  perforined  without  the  influence  . 
of  ihe  Spirit )  as  to  confess  thy  sins  without  shumc  or  sorrow, 
and  to  say  tlic  Lord's  prayer  without  uuders  tan  ding  —  to  hear 
die  word  that  tbou  raayest  only  know  more,  and  not  that  thou 
aayest  be  affected  more:— O,  ihes*  carcasses  of  holy  duties  are 
'most  odious  sacrifices  before  God. 

2.  He  is  a^living  God,  whereby  be  livctb  of  himself,  and  gives 

e  to  all  other  things.'   Away,  then,  with  ihy  dead  heart  to  thia 

principle  of  life  to  i]uickcn  thee,  that  his  almighty  power  may 

pluck  thee  out  of  thy  sepulcher,  unloose  thy  gruve  clothes,  that 

■o  ihoa  mayest  live. 

It.  lie  is  an  infinite  God,  whereby  he  is  without  limits  of  being. 
(2  Chron.  vi.  if)"  Horrible,  then,  is  the  least  sin  that  strikes 
■n  infinite,  great  God,  and  lamentable  is  the  estate  of  all  those 
with  whom  this  God  is  angry  ;  thou  host  infinite  goodness  to  for- 

thee,  and  infinite  power  and  wrath  to  set  against  thee. 

He  is  an  eternal  God,  without  beginning  or  end  of  being. 
(Pit.  Ixss.  1.)  Great,  therefore,  is  the  folly  of  those  men  iIulI 
irvfer  a  little  short  pleasure  before  this  eternal  God  ;  that,  like 
Esau,  sell  away  on  everlasting  inheritance  for  a  little  pollage' — 
fbr  a  base  lust  and  the  pleasure  of  it 

He  isan  all^suUicienl  God.  (Gen.  xvii.  1.)  What  lack  you, 
therefore  ?  y^il  llia(  WOOM  rauThave  this  God,  and  the  love  of 
■hut  God,  but  you  are  loih  to  take  the  pains  to  find  him,  or  to  be 
W  cost  to  purchase  him  nith  the  loss  of  all?  Here  is  infinite, 
'Wernal,  present  sweetness,  goodness,  grace,  glory,  and  mercy  to 
'he  found  in  this  God.  Why  post  you  from  mountain  to  hill, 
why  spend  you  your  money,  your  thoughts,  time,  endeavors,  on 
things  that  satisfy  not  ?  Here  is  thjr  r^ijig:;£lace.  Thy  cbthes 
may  warm  thee,  but  they  "can  noi  feed  thee;  thy  meat  may  feed 
thM,  but  can  not  heal  thee  ;  thy  physic  may  heal  thee,  but  can 
not  maintain  thee;  thy  money  may  maintain  thee,  but  can  not 
oomfort  thee  when  distnesses  of  consdence  and  anguish  of  heart 
come  upon  thcc.  This  GikI  is  joy  in  sadness,  light  in  darkness, 
life  in  death,  heaven  in  hell.  Here  is  all  thine  eye  ever  saw, 
heart  ever  desirwl,  thy  lonfttie  ever  asked,  iliv  minil  ever 


16  THK    SINCERE   CONVERT. 

•■oiii-civul.  Ilfre  is  nil  light  in  lliis  son,  ttJiU  nil  i 
i)e«,  out  of  whom,  ae  out  of  n  crystal  fountain,  tlioi)  shalt  drink'. 
(town  all  the  refined  Eweetnew;  of  all  creatures  in  heaven  aacl 
enrlh  forever  and  ever.  All  the  world  is  now  setbing  and' 
tiring  out  themselves  for  rest ;  here  only  it  mn  be  found. 

6.  He  is  ail  omnipotent  God,  whereby  he  ran  do  whatever  he 
Vfill.  Yield,  tberetoi-e,  and  stand  not  out  in  tlie  sinful  or  subtle 
close  maintenance  of  any  one  ein  against  this  God  so  powerful, 
who  oan  crash  thee  at  his  picnsure. 

7.  He  is  an  ^ll-seeuig^  God.  He  knows  what  possibly  can  be 
or  may  be  known ;  approve  thyself,  tlierefore,  to  this  God  only,  in 
nil  thy  ways.  It  is  no  matter  wliat  men  say,  censure,  or  think  of 
jhee.  It  is  no  matter  whnt  thy  fellow-actors  on  ibia  stage  ofjhe 
world  imagine.  God  is  (lie  great  Speclalor  ihut  beEglilfl  Ihee  in' 
every  place.  God  is  thy  Hpy,  and  takes  complete  notice  of  all 
the  actions  of  thy  life ;  and  they  are  in  print  iu  heaven,  wkicli 
that  great  Spectator  and  Judge  will  open  at  the  great  day,  and 
read  aloud  in  Ihe  ears  of  all  the  world.  Fear  to  sin,  therefore,  in 
secret,  unless  thou  canst  tind  out  some  dark  hole  where  the  eye 
of  God  can  not  discern  thee.  Mourn  for  thy  secret  neglect  of 
holy  duties;  mourn  for  thy  secret  hypocrisy,  whoredom,  profane- 
ness,  and,  with  shame  in  thy  face,  come  before  this  God  for  par- 
don and  mercy.  Admire  and  wonder  at  his  patience,  that,  having 
seen  thee,  bath  not  damned  thee. 

8.  lie  is  a  true  God ;  whereby  he  means  to  do  as  \\e  saith. 
Let  every  chifd  of  God,  thereforePtnowTo  liis  comtorl,  tliat 
whatever  he  hath  under-A-pcouikc,  shall  one  day  be  all  made 
good  i  and  let  all  wiilced  men  know,  whatever  threatening  God 
hath  denounced,  whatsoever  arrows  are  in  ihe  bowstring,  will  one 
day  Uy  and  hit,  and  strike  deep,  and  the  longer  the  Lord  is 
^-drawing,  the  deeper  wound  will  God's  arrow  (that  in,  God' 
threatening}  make. 

!).  He  is  a  holy  Gml.  Be  not  ashamed,  therefore,  of  holi 
which  if  it'ai<ceiid  alwve  ihe  common  strain  of  honesty,  the  blintf , 
and  mud  world  accounts  it  madness.  If  the  righteous  (that  in, 
'  those  that  be  most  holy)  be  scarcely  saved,  where  shall  the 
.  ungodly  and  the  sinner  appear?  (1  Pet,  iv  18.)  Where  ?  Not 
before  saints  nor  angels,  for  holiness  is  their  trade ;  not  before 
the  face  of  ilie  man  Christ  Jesus,  for  holiness  was  his  twat  and 
drink :  not  before  the  face  of  a  blessed  God,  for  holiness  is  his 
nature  i  not  in  heaven,  for  no  unclean  thing  crawls  there ;  ihey 
shall  never  aee  God,  Christ,  saints,  angels,  or  heaven,  to  their 
comfort,  that  are  not  holy.  Wear,  therefore,  that  na  thy  crown 
now,  which  will  be  Ihv  glory  in  hejiven  i  and  if  this  be  to  be  vile,, 
**■  mow  rile. 


lesij 
lintffl 
t  isT 


i 


TRP.   StNCF.RK    CONVr.RT. 


10,  lie  19  a  juit  and  mei-cifuL  (iwl:  Jiist  in  himseif,  and  so 
will  punUh  »11  mn ;  meri/iful  in  llm  fact:  of  Chrisl,  and  so  will 
~^        '     '      '        ■       •    -        -    ---       --T-  for  iheiii. 


poriTSB~no  sin,  bHving  already  borne  our  jiunlihi  . 

A  juTt  Utxj  against  a  hard-llearl«<]  sinner,  a  mercifni  Gml  towarja- 
a  humblo  sinner.  God  is  not  all  racivj  And  no  justice,  nor  nil 
junlice  and  no  mercy.  Submit  to  him,  his  merry  embraceth 
thee.  Resist  him,  his  justice  pursues  thee.  When  a  child  of 
God  is  humbled  indeed,  commonly  he  makes  God  a  hnrd-henru^d, 
cru«l  God,  loth  to  help ;  and  aailh,  Can  such  a  sinner  be  par- 
doned? A  wicked  man,  that  was  nerer  humbled,  makes  God  a 
God  of  lien  —  one  thai  (howsoever  he  spvaks  heavy  words,  yet 
be  is  ft  merciful  God  and)  will  not  do  as  he  sailh,  and  he  Amis 
difficult  work  to  believe  the  greatest  sin  may  be  pardoned. 
Conceive,  therefore,  of  him  as  you  have  beard.  *" 

Thirdly.  God  is  plorioua  in  his  peraons,  which  are  three : 
Falher  begetting,  fejn  begotten,  and  the  HoIy"Gho8l.  ihe  lliiril^ 
person,  proceeding.  Here  the  Father  is  called  the  Falher  of 
g^ry,  (Eph.  i. :)  Christ  is  called  the  Lord  of  glory,  ( 1  Cor.  ii :) 
and  the  Spirit  is  cnlled  the  .Spirit  of  glory.  (1  Pet.  iv.)  The 
Father  is  glorious  in  his  great  work  ofjleeium;  the  Son  is 
ons  m  his  great  work  of  rgdemptisJLi.  tl'e  tloly  Ghost  is 
glorious  in  his  work  of  applicalioit  i  ifie  Father  b  glorious  in 
choosing  the  house,  the  aon  is*  glorious  in  buying  ihe  hotiFP, 
Ihe  Spirit  is  glorious  in  dwelling  io  the  house  —  that  is,  the  heart 
*  «  poor,  lost  sinner. 

4.  He  is  glorious  in  hia  works  —  in  bis  works  of  creiilion.  and 
in  bU  works  of  providence  and  government.  Wonder,  therefore, 
diM  be  should  so  vouchsafe  to  look  upon  such  worms,  such  dung- 
hilb,  such  lepers  as  we  are;  to  provide,  protect,  to  slay  bis  Son; 
to  call,  to  strive,  to  wiut,  to  give  away  himself  and  all  lluu  he  is 
worth,  unto  us.  O,  feur  this  God  when  you  come  before  him. 
People  come  before  God  in  pmyer  as  before  their  fellows,  or  m 
before  nn  idol.  People  tremble  not  at  bis  voice  in  the  word.  A 
king  or  monarch  will  be  served  in  stale ;  yet  how  rudely,  how 
slovenly  du  men  go  about  every  holy  duty  !  ^'Thus  much  of  the 
tfrst  principul  head,  T/iat  ihrrt  it  onf  tnott  ^lorioat  God.  Now 
we  are  to  proceed  to  the  second. 
2* 


CHAFTKR    II. 


e  diown  this  text, 
,■  which  clearly  demon- 


/      For  tlie  npeiiing  of  whidi  r 
"^  (Ecpi.  vii.  i'-i,)  Guii  made  man  righttoat  ; 

— >--ThRt  God  iiiaite  all  mnnkind  nl  fir^t  in  Adnm,  in  amtHt  glo- 

Irious  happ^>  an*)  rijihleoiii)  estate.     Man,  niien  he  came  first  out 

^of  God's  mint,  shined  niosr  glorious.  There  xf,  a  marveloua  glory 
in  ftll  creatures,  (the  servaut^  ajid  honseliold  stuff  of  man  ;)  Ilicre- 
fore  there  was  a  greater  glory  in  man  liimself,  ihe  end  of  them. 
Crpd-eoHatli  a^uirliuiuetiJi  and  gathers  a  council,  when  man  was 
y  to  be  made :  and  said,  "  Come,  let  us  mnke  man  in  our  own 
image,"  as  though  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Trinity  should  be  seen 
in  the  ereution  of  man. 

Wherein  did  the  glory  and  blessedness  of  man  appear  ? 
*'  In  the  impression  of  God's  irange  upon  him.  (Gen.  i.  26.)  Can 
there  be  any  greater  glory  for  a  Joseph,  for  a  subject,  than  to  be 
like  his  prince  ? 

r~"  ^Vhat  wfla  the  image  of  God  ? 

'      The  Klioolmen   and  fathers    have  many   curious  (yet  some 

necessary)  though  difficult  questions  about  ibis.     I  will  omit  all 

theirs,  and  tell  you  only  what  is  the  apostle's  judgment,  (Col.  iiU 

20,)  out  of  which  thra^  general  description  of  God's  image  may 

-i    be  thus  gathered  :  It  is  man's  perfeciiun  of  holiness,  resembling    , 

\God's  admirable  holiness,  wherety  only  nlATI  pleaKGlh  God. 
^Tor  all  other  inferior  creatures  did  carry  the  marks  and  footstep*  4 
of  God's  power,  wisdom,  goodness,  whereby  all  these  altributet'l 
were  seen.     One  of  the  most  perfect  attributes,  his  '    "  '  ' 

would  have  men  only  appear  in,  and  be  made  manifest  by  mu 
tiis  best  inferior  creature,  as  a  king's  wisdom  and  bounty  appc 
in  maunging  the  aifairs  of  all  his  kingdom  ;  but  his  royal,  princeln 
and  most  eminent  perfections  appear  in  the  face  and  dispositioi 
,  of  bia  .Son,  next  under  him.  But  more  particularly  this  i 
of  (jod  appeared  in  these  foui-  particulars  :  — 

1.  In.  man's  understanding.    This  was  like  unto  God's.    Norf, 
God's  iinnge  liere  cUlelly  consisted   in   this  particulitr,  v" 
Gud  saw  hiui.selfi'and  beheld  hid  own  inAuile,  endless  glory  and 

'excellency,  so  man  was  privy  to  God's  excellency,  and  saw  God 
>most  gloriously;  as  Moses,  though  a  sinful  man.  saw  him  face 
to  face,  much  more  Adam,  a  perfect  man.  Gud,  loving  man, 
could  do  no  less  than  reveal  himself  io  man-  ] 


2.  In  hU  affwliong.     The  image  of  Gocl  cliioflj  appeared  in 

btwo  things :  — 
FiraL  A»  Gkid.  seeing  himself,  loved  hioiM^lf,  so  Adflin,  seeing 
God.  lored  ibig  God  more  than  ihe  world,  more  than  himself. 
As  iron  put  into  the  lire  seems  to  be  nolhiiig  but  fire,  so  Adani^ 
being  belored  of  God,  wus  turned  into  a  lump  of  love,  to  love 
God  again. 

Secondly.  As  God  delighted  in  himself,  so  did  Adam  dejiglit 
in  Gud,  look  sweet  re|K»e  in  the  bosom  of  God.  Methinks  1 
ne  Adam  rapl  np  in  conlinuitl  ers-lasios  in  having  (liis  God. 

3.  In  hia  will.  The  image  of  God  chiefly  appeared  in  two 
tilings:  — 

First  As  Gi>cl  only  willed  himself  as  his  last  end,  so  did  Adam 
will  God  as  hi«  liut  end,  not  ad  ninn  doth  now. 

Secondly.  As  God  willed  nothing  but  goo^l,  so  did  Adam  will 
nothing,  though  not  iramulsbly,  but  good  ;  lor  Roirii  will  wm  liin.    ' 

4.  La  his  life,  God's  image  did  appear  tHus :  that,  even  as 
God,  if  he  had  assumed  man's  nature,  would  have  lited  out- 
wardly, so  did  Adam;  for. God  w-ould  hacc  lived  acconling  In 
his  own  will,  law,  and  rule :  so  did  Adam.  Adam's  body  wn^ 
the  lantern  througli  which  holiness,  like  a  lamp  burning  in  his 
heart,  shined.  This  wasjiad's  iuiagei  by^mejuis  _of_which,  as  it 
ia  said  in  the  description,  he  pleased  God,  aj^nilitudn  Iming  tUf^v 
jTound  of  love  ;  and  hence  Hod  did  most  dearly  love  him.  and 
•ighijr  bonor  hitn  to  be  Lord  over  all  creatures.  No  evil  (con- 
tinuing in  that  estate)  could  hurt  him  ;  here  was  no  sorrow,  no  , 
■ickiicjd,  no  tears,  no  fears,  no  death,  no  hell,  nor  ever  should 
hare  been  if  there  he  had  stood. 

OhftcSon.     How  was  this  estate  ours  ? 

AnitBvr.  As  Christ's  righteousness  is  a  believer's  by  imputation, 
though  he  never  performed  il  himself,  so  Adam's  righleousuess 
.ttd  image  were  imputed  _te-ii3,  and  accounted  oursj  for  Adaiit 
IWccivod  our  sioek  or  patrimony  to  keep  it  for  us,  and  to  convey 
it  to  us.  Hence,  he  proving  bankrupt,  we  lost  it.  But  we  had  it  j 
in  his  kaiids,  m  an  orphan  may  have  a  great  estate  left  him,  though 
be  uover  receive  one  penny  of  it  from  him  tli'at  was  his  guardian, 
that  should  have  kept  it  for  him,  nnd  conveyed  it  to  him. 

Here  sec  the  horrible  nature  of  sin,  that  plucks  man  down  by 
the  cars  from  his  throne,  from  his  perfection,  (hough  never  so 
'^rciU-  Adam  might  have  pleaded  for  himself,  and  have  siud, 
Although  I  have  siimed,  yet  it  is  but  one  and  the  first  fault. 
Xord,  behold,  I  am  thy  Brat  bom.  0,  pity  my  poor  posterity, 
who  are  forever  undone  if  thou  fbrgivest  not.  Yet  8i:e,  on« 
-tin  weighs  liim  down  and  all  hia  posterity,  as  we  shall  hear,  into 


20  THK    fil^CKRE    CONVERT. 

Hence  learn  Low  Jusilv  God  may  require  perfect  obediem 
to  all  the  law  of  every  man,  and  ciirse  liim  if  he  can  not  perfor 
it,  becnuse  mnii  vaa  at  first  made  in  sueli  a  glorious  eslale, 
trherein  he  had  power  given  faim  lu  please  God  iierteclly.  GoA 
may,  therefore,  i-equtre  this  debt  of  perfect  obedience.     Now  ■ 

(man  ia  broke,  and  in  priHon ;  in  beH  be  must  lie  forever,  if  he 
can  not  pay  justiee  every  farthing,  becnu^  God  (rusted  him  with  ^ 
a  Block  whieh  if  be  had  well  improved,  be  might  have  paid  alL 
Bee  what  cause  every  man  bath  lo  lament  hi«  miserable  estate 
he  is  now  fallen  inio.  For  beggars'  children  lo  live  vagrants 
and  poor  is  not  so  lamentable  as  for  a  great  prince's  children  to 
becotnc  such.  One  never  in  favor  with  the  prince  grieves  not 
as  he  dolb  that  was  once  in  favor,  but  now  cast  out.  Man  is 
.1  now  rejected  of  Go<l  that  was  beloved  of  Grod.  He  is  dow  a 
Urunagaie  up  and  down  the  earth  lliat  was  once  a  prince  and  lord 
Nof  all  l)ie  world.  This  is  one  aggravation  of  the  damned's  sor- 
row. O,  the  hopes,  the  meanii,  the  mercies  that  once  I  had ! 
Can  these,  do  these  lament  for  the  loss  of  their  hopes  and  com- 
jnon  mercies  ?  Lord,  what  hearts,  then,  have  meW  that  WilTnot, 
do  not,  ihaTwil!  not  lament  the  loss  of  such  special  high  favors, 
now  gone,  which  once  ihey  had  ?  It  is  said  that  those  that  saw 
llie  glory  of  the  flrst  temple  we|>t  when  they  saw  the  giory  of 
the  second,  and  how  inferior  it  was  to  the  tiral.  You  that  either 
have  the  temple  of  God  begun  to  be  repaired  in  you,  or  not 
begun  at  all,  O,  think  of  the  temple  burnt,  the  glory  of  God  now 
vanished  and  lost. 

This  speaks  comfort  lo  all  God's  people.  If  all  Adam's  pos- 
terity were  perfectly  righteous  in  him,  then  thou  llial  art  of  the 
blood  royal,  and  in  Christ  art  perfectly  righteous  in  him  much 
more,  inasmuch  as  the  righteousness  of  the  second  Adam  exceeds 
the  first,  so  art  thou  more  hnppyi  more  holy  in  tlie  second  Adam 
than  ever  the  first  in  himself  was.  He  might  lose  all  bis  right-  ^ 
I  eousness ;  but  the  second  Adam  can  not,  halh  not ;  so  that,  if  -^ 
Christ  may  be  damned,  then  thou  mayest ;  else  not.  H 

This  likewise  reprovelh  three  sorts  of  people  : —  H 

F  J,       1.  pUfih  M  y^g   a^hnp^fii    nf  linlinpm-      I^rd,  what   limes  afft-'H 

HS«|t  fldlea  into  now  ?  The  ir^iigt-of-eect-Whlch  was  once  mea't  fl 
^^^Hgto^,  li  oow  their  shame ;  and  sin,  wliich  is  men's  shame,  ii  H 
^^^ISeW  tb^  S^oi?-  ^hc  world  hath  raised  up  many  false  reports  ^ 
,  of  holy  courses,  calling  it  folly  imd  preciseness,  pride,  hyjxicrisy, 

and  that,  whatsoever  shows  men  may  make,  they  are  as  bad  na 
(he  worst,  if  their  sins  wore  writ  in  their  foreheads.     Hence  it 
Cometh  to  pass  thai  many  a  man,  who  is  almost  persuaded  to  bci 
I  a  new  man,  and  to  lam  over  r  new  leaf,  dares  nol,  will  not,  fof   ■ 


THE   SISCF.RE   COSVKRT.  21 

Fliniii^  of  ilii"  world,  enter  upon  religious  coursps.  What  will 
llii^y  lliiJik  of  me  then?  Eaith  he'.  Men  ore  a^hflmcd  to  refuse 
~  t>  drink  hculilis,  and  hence  mainlain  ibem  I&wful-  Our  goUanln 
,rc  asliamed  to  stay  a  mile  behind  the  fashion  ;  hence  they  will 
defend  open  and  naked  breasts  and  strange  apparal,  as  things 
comely.  O.  lime  servers !  that  have  some  conscience  to  desire 
to  be  honest,  and  to  be  reputed  so,  yet  conform  themselves  to  all 
companies/  If  they  hear  others  swear,  they  are  ashamed  to 
reprove  tfacin  ;  they  are  ashamed  to  enter  the  lists  of  holy  dis- 
course in  bod  company ;  and  tbey  will  pretend  discretion,  nnd 
we  roust  not  east  pearls  before  su'ine ;  but  the  bottom  of  the 
business  is,  they  arc  a^^hamed  to  be  holy.  O,  fearful !  Is  it  a 
shame  to  be  like  God  ?  O,  sinful  wretches  I  It  is  a  credit  to 
be  any  thing  but  religious,  and,  with  many,  religion  is  a  shame. 
J  wonder  with  n-hut  luce  thou  durest  pray,  or  with  what  look 
thou  wilt  bclxtld  the  Lord  of  glory  at  Ilie  last  day,  who  art 
ashamed  of  him  now,  that  will  be  admired  of  all  men,  angels, 
M)d  devib  then  ?  Dost  thou  look  for  wages  from  Christ  (hat 
Art  ashamed  to  own  Christ,  or  to  wear  his  livery  ? 

3.  It  reproves  them  that  hate  lioliue§9,  whicJi  is  more  than  to 
be  ashamed  of  it. 

S.  It  reproves  ibem  that__jamEnt  thenu.eh:gs  with  a  certnio^ 
noaaure  of  hoUacBs.  Perfect  hoTiness  was  Adam's  ITlin^, 
whereby  he  pleased  God ;  and  shall  a  little  holiness  content 
thee? 

Now,  there  are  lhe»c  three  sorts  of  tliem  ;  — 

1.  Tbe  forroalist,  who  contents  himself  with  some  holiness,  as 
much  OS  will  credit  Tiim.  t"  ' '    t 

The  form  and.  name  of  raligion  h^onotj  honor  sometimes; 
but  the  power  and  practice  of  it  is  anm,  a  burden  ;  hence  men 
take  up  ihe  lirst,  and  shake  off  tl)e~Second.  Snd  indeed  the 
greaicsi  part  take  up  this  course ;  if  they  have  no  goodness, 
they  should  be  the  shame,  scorn,  and  table  talk  of  the  times ; 
therefore  every  man  will,  for  his  honor's  sake,  have  this  form. 
"  iw,  this  form  is  according  to  the  mold  wherein  he  is  cast.  If 
his  ftc(]uaintance  be  but  civil,  he  will  be  like  them ;  if  they  be 
nu>r«  exact,  as  to  pray,  read,  confer,  he  will  not  stay  one  inch 
tiohind  them.  If  to  be  better  than  his  companions,  to  bear  tlio  > 
bcU  before  thero,  will  credit  him,  he  will  be  so,  whatever  it  coRt 
bim ;  but  yet  be  never  will  be  so  exact  in  his  course  as  to  bo 
hated  for  it,  unless  he  perceives  the  hatred  he  contracts  from 
■ome  men  shall  be  recumitensed  with  the  more  love  nnd  credit  ■ 
by  other  men.  He  disguiseth  himself  acconling  to  the  places  or 
company  he  comes  into.     King  >Tuii>ih  was  a  good  man  so  long 


22  TIIK   elNCKlIK    t.OSVKRT. 

lu  Ji-lioiiwlu  Llii^  |>riu«l  lived.  If  n  liltle  religiui 
credit  men,  tiuit  shull  tierve  for  ihnt  timi; ;  if  more  in  unoilier  I 
place,  you  bhull  then  luivc  ilivm  cummending  good  men,  good,  -I 
EurmoDs,  giood  liook^,  and  drop  tbrlh  two  or  three  guod  Genlences, 
What  will  tliey  thiuk  of  liim  then  ?  Tber  cover  iheniselvee 
over  with  tlicse  tig  leaves  of  coiaiuon  lionesly  to  cover  tlieir 
nakedncits  ;  ihvy  bait  all  tliuir  courses  over  wii^  bunesty,  tlurt 
they  may  catch,  for  they  lish  only  for  credit.  (  One  may  trap 
I  ihcae  people  thii8  :\  Follow  ibem  in  their  private  houses,  there  is 
^worldlinesB,  posaion.  looeeneija  :  and  u>  ibeir  private  chaoilKrs, 

vate  vain  thouglila.  In  this  lyring  house  you  shall  then  see  these 
stage  players ;  their  shop  windows  are  shut ;  here  no  lionesly 
is  U)  be  seen  scarce,  because  their  gain,  their  respect,  cornea  nM 
in  at  this  door,  wbcre  none  beholds  them.  Let  either  minister 
or  any  faithful  friend  search,  try,  discover,  accuse,  and  condemn 
these  men  as  rotten,  though  gilded,  posts,  as  uiiiiound,  bolloW' 
hearted  wretches,  their  hearts  will  swell  like  loiids,  and  liiss  like 
snakes,  and  bork  like  dogs,  against  tlieiu  that  thus  censure  theio, 
because  ihcy  rob  them  of  their  God  they  served,  their  gain  i« 
gone. 

2.  The  guilty,  self-condemned  sinner,  that  goes  further  than 
the  foAnalist,  and  contents  niti)Sflf  WIIR  so  much  holiness  as  wiU 
quiet  him ;  and  hence  all  the  heathen  have  had  some  religion, 

'  becftuse  Ibey  had  some  conscience  to  trouble  them.  ^ti^iroBn, 
'if  Ikc  hath  lived  in  fool  sins,  and  begins  to  be  mcked  and  troubled 

I  for  ihem,  he  will  then  confess  nnd  forsake  those  sins.    But  how  ? 

4  As  a  dog  ilolh  his  meat ;  not  because  he  hates  liis_caruifflt_but 
bec(mse_Uit^fear8  the  cuogeT  He  pciTormB7''orj  duties,  not 
because  he  wiU  lifie*th~i>ui,~ltut  because  be  must,  use  them  ;  there 
is  no  (juict  else.  If  conseienct!  be  still,  be  omits  duties  ;  if  con- 
science cry  and  stir,  he  falls  to  duties  and  so  halh  his  good  ntood 
as  ciHiscience  halh  his  fits.  They  boost  ond  crow  over  hypo- 
criles,  beuatise  liio  holiness  lliey  have  is  not  a  bare  show.  No ; 
but  it  is  to  stop  ihy  conscience,  and  only  to  quiet  tlie  clamors  of 
that.  Thou  dost  bribe,  and  so  quiet  (the  bailiff)  thy  conscience, 
by  tby  praying,  hearing,  an<1  sorrowing;  but  God,  thy  Judges 
liath  heavy  things  to  lay  to  tliy  charge,  before  whom  thou  slislli  I 

■    shortly  with  dread  appear. 

^^.  The  pining  and  devout  hyj>ocrile,  thai,  l>eiiig  pursued 
e(nieIl7goe8  ruriheT;  nntl  liItRiltffor  jusi 


the 

ness  as  will  save 
Hence  the youn'gED 
to  Christ,  which  n 


much  hot 
'\  carry  him  lu  heavei 
1  ihe  gospel  came  with  that  great  questioR 
unsound   hearts   come  whh 


i   CONVEKT.  23 

now  —  what  he  sLould  do  la  inherit  eternal  life.  These  people 
set  Dp  gueh  a  man  in  their  thoughts  to  he  a  very  hoDcst  man,  and 
one  doubtless  that  shall  be  sarei) ;  and  hence  thej  will  lake  him 
to  be  their  copy  nnd  sampler,  and  labor  to  do  as  he  doth,  and  to 
live  just  as  he  livei^,  and  to  hold  opinions  as  lie  luJds,  and  so 
hope  to  be  eaTcd.  They  will  ask,  very  inquisitively,  What  is  the 
leitst  measure  of  grace,  and  the  least  grain  of  faith  ?  and  the  best ' 
fermons  are  not  such  as  liumble  them  moat,  but  such  as  flatter  \ 
them  best ;  wherein  they  may  hear  how  well  good  desires  are  1 
accepted  of  by  God ;  which  if  they  hear  to  be  of  that  virtue  to  • 
save  them,  God  shall  be  served  only  wiih  good  desires,  and  the 
devil  in  their  actions  all  their  lives. 

Thus  they  make  any  thing  serve  for  God ;  they  labor  not  after 
io  much  hotmess  as  will  honor  Christ,  but  after  juat  so  much  as 
will  bear  their  charges  tolicaven,  anifsave  themselves.  For  thlsn 
is  one  of  the  greatest  difierenccs  betwixt  a  child  of  God  and  a  1 
hypocrite.  In  their  obedience,  the  one  lakes  up  duties  out  of  love  1 
,,fn  Chrjst,  to  have  him  ;  and  hence  ho  mourns  daily,  because  CEnst"" 
is  no  greater  gainer  by  him  ;  theotherout  of  love  |o  lmnself|  mere- 
ly to  save  bis  own  soul ;  and  hence  hemburns  for  his  sins,  becaiisei^ 
they  may  damn  him.  Remember  that  place,  therefore,  1  Cor.xr.  ukj 

Lastly.  Labor  to  get  this  image  of  God  renewed  again.  Honest 
aen  will  labor  to  pay  theirjlelys;  tln_8_is_God!a,dgbt,  How  3o 
men  labor  to  be  in  the  fasHIon  !  Better  to  be  out  of  the  world 
than  out  of  the  fashion.  To  be  like  God  is  heaven's  fashion, 
angels'  fashion,  and  it  will  be  in  fashion  one  day,  when  the  Lord 
Jesus  shall  appear ;  then,  if  thou  hast  the  superscription  and  image 
of  the  devil,  and  not  the  image  of  God  upon  thee,  God  and  Christ 

'II  never  own  thee  at  that  day.     Labor,  therefore,  to  have  God's 

age  restored  again,  and  tjaton's  wash  out ;  seek  not,  as  many  dOf 
Io  pureiiase  such  and  such  a  grace  first    Bui,  — 

I.  Labor  to  mortify  and  eub()ti£^tlut  sin  whieli 
thine  heart  to  that  grace.  "T^t  put  o^  (He  M 
pui  on  the  new.  (Eph.  iv.) 

3.  Labor  for  a  meilinff,  tender  heart  for  the  least  sin.  Gold  is 
dien  only  fit  to  receive  tlie  impression  when  it  b  lender  and  is 
nelled  ;  when  ihine  heart  ia  heated,  therefore,  at  a  sermon,  cry 
(Kit,  Lord,  now  strike,  now  imprint  thine  image  upon  me !  1 

S,  Labor  Io  see  the  Lord  Je^as  in  liis  glory.  For  as  ^vicked  yf 
men,  looking  upon  the  evil  example  of  great  ones  in  the  world, 
duU  will  bear  them  oui,  grow  like  them  in  villainy,  •to  the  very 
behoMing  the  glorious  grace  in  Christ,  ibis  great  Lord  of  glory, 
iTHMformetb  men  into  this  image.  (2  Cor.  iii.  17.  18.)  As  the 
gIsM,  set  full  against  ihe  sun,  receives  not  only  the  beams,  as  kU 


ii  THE    SU'CKitE  cu.vrj^uT. 

other  dark  bodies  do,  but  tlie  image  of  the  euii,  so  ihe  undersland*  j 
ing,  with  open  face  beholding  Cbriet,  is  turned  into  the  image  hi 
likeness  of  ChrisL     Men  nowadays  look  only  to  the  best  mei 
lives,  and  see  bow  they  walk,  and  rest  here.     O,  look  higher  ta 
this  blessed  f'nce  of  God  in  Christ  as  thine  own.     As  tJie  applica- 
tion of  the  seid  to  the  wax  imprints  the  image,  bo  to  view  the 
grace  of  Christ  as  all  thine  imprints  the  same  image  strongly  on 
the  soul.    I  come  now  to  the  third  principal  bead  in  order,  which 
I  shall  iiiHist  upon,  out  ol'  Rom.  iii.  23 :  "  All  have  Binned  and 
deprived  of  tlie  glory  of  God." 


CHAPTER  HI. 

THAT  ALL  UANKIKO   13    FALLBH    BIT  BIN    VROM  TUAT  tiLOBlOUS 
KSTATE  HE  WAB  IIADE  IN,  IKTO  A  HOST  WOFUL  AND  UlSERABLE 

CONDITION. 

The  devil  abusing  the  serpent,  and  man  abusing  his  men  free 
\fwil!,  overthrew  Adam,  and  in  him  all  his  posterity,  by  sin.  (Geo. 
iiL  1-3  olc.) 

Now,  man's  misery  appears  ia  these  two  things :  — 
A,  His  misery  in  regard  of  sin. 
\2-  His  misery  in  regard  of  the  consequences  of  sin. 
I.  His  misery  in  regard  of  sin  appears  in  these  particulars : — 
1.  Every  man  Uving  is  born  guilty  of  Adam's  sin.     Now,  the 
justice  and  equity  of  God,  in  laying  this  sin  to  every  mon'e  charge, 
though  none  of  Adam's  posterity  personally  committed  it,  ap- 
pears thus : — 

First.  If  Adam  standing,  all  mankind  hod  stood,  then  it  a 
equal,  that  he  falling,  all  hb  posterity  should  falL  All  our  estate* 
were  ventured  in  this  ship ;  tliercfore,  if  we  should  have  been 
piirttikers  of  his  gains,  if  he  hod  continued  safe,  it  is  lit  we  should 
be  partakers  of  hia  loss  too. 
•^  j  But,  secondly.  IVe  are  all  in  Adam,  as^a  whole  country  in  a 
par^oueat  man;  the  whole  country  doth  what  he  dolb.  And 
L  although  we  made  no  particular  choice  of  Adam  to  stand  for  us, 
I  ,,  yet  the  Lord  made  it  for  us ;  who,  being  goodoeis  ilMlf,  bears  more 
^L^  goodwill  to  man  than  be  eon  or  could  bear  tq  himself;  and  being 
Hpl  wisdom  itself,  made  the  wisest  choice,  and  took  the  wisest  coqfsb 
^B  fur  the  good  of  man.  For  this  made  most  for  men's  safety  oail 
H  quiet;  for  if  hehod  Btoo<l,all  fear  of  losingour  happy  estate  had 
H       vanished ;  whereas,  if  every  man  had  been  left  to  stand  or  fall 


i 


.\y 


I  Aiid  Hgaiii :  lliiij  wait  Ihe  sure  way  to  have  nil  men's  states 
[treaen'ed  ;  for  having  the  charge  of  the  estnles  of  all  men  that 
ever  should  be  in  the  world,  he  was  the  more  ]>re«Ar<I  to  look  the 
more  about  him,  and  m>  to  be  more  watchful,  that   he  be  not 
lobbed,  and  so  undo  and  procure  ifae  curses  of  so  many  thousan^^ 
■gainst  him.     Adam  wiu-i  the  hMd  of  mankind,  and  all  mankind  I 
Mturally  are  membera  of  that  head:  and  if  the  head  invent  and  I 
plot  treason,  Midthehend  practice  treason  against  the  king  or  I 
Btate.  the  whole  body  is  found  guilty,  and  the  whole  body  mustj 
needs  suffer.      Adam  waa  the  poisoned  root  and  cisleru  of  alTl 
mankind  :  now,  the  branches  and  slrearaa  being  in  the  root  and  I 
spring  originally,  they  therefore  are  tainted  with  the  same  poi-  I 
soned  principles.     If  these  tilings  satisfy  not,  God  hath  a  dayl^ 
coming  wherein  he  will  reveal  his  own  righteous  proceedings 
before  men  and  angels.  (Rom.  ii.  4.) 

O  that  men  would  consider  this  sin,  and  that  the  considc ration : 
of  it  could  Immble  people's  hearts  7  If  any  mourn  for  sin,  it  is 
for  the  moet  [lart  for  other  foul  actuid  sins  ;  few  for  this  sin  thtttt 
ttrst  mftde  the  breach,  and  began  the  controversy  betwixt  God/ 
■nd  matk  Next  unto  tiie  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  con-*I^ 
tempt  of  the  gospel,  this  is  the  greatest  sin  that  crieth  loudest 
in  God's  ears  for  vengeance,  day  and  night,  against  a  world  (^ 
men.  For  now  men's  sins  are  against  God  in  their  base  and  low 
estates  ;  but  this  sin  was  committed  against  Jehovah,  when  man 
waa  at  the  top  of  his  preferment.  Uelwllion  of  a  traitor  on  a 
dunghill  is  not  so  great  as  of  a  favorite  iu  coOrl.  Little  sina 
■gainst  light  are  made  horrible.     No  sin.  by  any  man  committed, 

ever  against  so  much  light  as  Adam  had.  This  sin  wiia  the 
flnt  that  ever  displeased  God.  Dninkenness  deprives  God  <^ 
the  glory  of  sobriety  ;  whoring,  of  chastity  ;  but  this  sin  darkens 
'*  F  very  sun,  defaces  all  the  image  of  God,  the  glory  of  man,  and  , 
rt*  glory  of  God  in  man ;  this  is  the  first  sin  ever  did  thee  mia-  , 
■  ehief.  This  sin,  like  a  captain,  faaili  gathered  together  all  those  ' 
tooops  and  swarms  of  sins  tliat  now  take  hold  upon  thee.  Thank 
lliissinrorahardheart  thou  so  much  compluinest  of;  thank  this  sin  | 
§Dr  that  hellish  darkness  that  overspreads  thee.     This  hath  raised  J 

ji,  death,  judgment,  hell,  and  heaven  a^inst  thecv^  . 

I  *■  O,  consider  these  sins  that  are  packed  up  in  this  evil.  ].  Fcar-v 
fbl  apo«Usy  from  Gud  like  a  devil.  2.  Horrible  rebellion  against/ 
Oud  in  joining  sides  with  the  deTil,  and  taking  God's  greatest      ' 

sies'  part  agauisl  God.     :t.  Woful  unbelief,  iu  suspectingv' 
,Gad*s  threats  to  be  true.     4.  Fcnrful  blasphemy  in  eonecivtng  v 
Ak  devil  (God*B  enemy  nnd  man's  murderer)  to  be  more  true  in 
Us  temptations  thanirofl  in  his  ihrcaleiiing.     o.  Horrible  pride, 


26  THE    SINCERE    CUNVKIIT. 

in  Ihinking  to  make  this  sin  of  eating  tlie  forbidden  fruil  to" 
be  a.  step  and  a  stuir  to  rbe  higher,  and  to  be  like  God  himselt. 

^6.  Fearfulcontcmpt  of  God,  mitking  bold  to  rush  upon  the  award 
of  the  threatening  secretly,  oot  fearing  the  plague  denounced. 

J  7.  Horrible  nnthankfulncss,  when  God  hiid  giren  him  all  but  one 
tree,  and  yet  he  must  be  lingering  that  too.  8.  Horrible  lbGi>, 
in  taking  that  which  was  none  of  his  own.  9.  Horrible  idolatry, 
,in  doting  apoa  and  loving  tbe  creature  more  than  God  the 
Creator,  who  is  blessed  forever. 

You,  therefore,  that  now  say,  No  man  can  say,  Black  is  your 
eye,  you  have  lived  civilly  all  your  days,  look  upon  ttiis  one 
grievous  sin,  take  a  full  view  of  it,  which  Ihou  hast  never  shed 
one  tear  for  as  yet,  and  see  thy  misery  by  it,  and  wonder  at 
God's  patience  (  he  bath  spared  thee  who  wast  born  branded  with 
it,  and  hast  lived  guilly  of  it,  and  must  perish  forever  for  it,  if 
the  Lord  from  heaven  pity  thee  not. 

I  But  here  is  not  all.  Consider,  secondly,  every  man  is  bom  stark 
dead  iu  sin.  (Ephes.  ii.  I.)  He  is  bom  empty  of  every  inward 
principle  of  life,  void  of  all  grace,  and  bath  no  more  good  in 
liim  (whatsoever  he  thinks)  than  a  dead  carrion  hath.  And 
he  ia  under  tbe  power  of  sin,  as  a  dvad  man  is  under  the  power 
of  death,  and  can  not  perforua  any  act  of  life  ;  tbeir  bodies  arc 
living  colfins  to  carry  a  dead  bouI  up  and  down  in. 

It  is  trae,  (I  confess,)  many  wicked  men  do  many  good  actions, 
as  praying,  hearing,  alms  deeds  ;  but  it  is  not  from  any  inward 
\Jprincipie  of  life.^  External  motives,  like  plummets  on  a  dead 
(yeTSlTlficiaiJ  clock,  set  them  a-rnnning.  Jehu  was  zealous, 
but  it  was  only  ibr  a  kingdom  ;  the  Pharisees  gave  alms  only  to 
be  seen  of  men.  If  one  write  a  will  with  a  dead  man's  hand 
deceased,  that  will  can  not  stand  in  any  law;  it  was  not  his  will, 
because  it  was  not  writ  by  him,  by  any  inward  principle  of 
life  of  his  own.  Etide.  makes  a  man  preach,  pride  makes  a  man 
hear,  and  pray  sometimes.  Self-love  stirs  up  strange  desires  in 
^en,  so  that  we  may  say,  This  is  none  of  God's  act  by  his  grace  in 
the  soul,  but  pride  and  self-love.     Bring  a  dead  man  to  the  tire, 

iud  chafe  liim,  and  rub  him,  you  may  produce  some  heat  by  tbis 
ezlemal  working  upon  him ;  but  take  him  from  the  fire  agiun, 
ud  he  is  soon  cold ;  so  many  a  man  that  lives  under  a  sound 
ninister,  under  the  lashes  and  knock  of  a  chiding,  striving  con- 
science, he  hath  some  heat  in  him,  some  affections,  some  fears, 
some  desires,  some  sorrows  stirred  ;  yet  take  him  from  the  min- 
ister and  his  chaling  conscience,  and  be  grows  cold  again  pres- 
ently, because  he  wimts  on  inward  principle  of  life. 

Which  [Hiiut  niigiit  make  us  to  lake  up  n  bitler  Innientution  fo^ 


27 

evi>ry  nnlnral  man.  It  is  said,  (Ex.  xii.  30,)  "  That  llicre  was 
K  great  cry  in  E;;ypl,  for  there  was  not  A  house  wherein  there 
wiu  not  onR  found  dead."  O  Lord,  in  some  towns  nnd  families, 
what  a  world  of  these  are  there !  Dead  husband,  dead  wife, 
<leiul  serrantd,  dead  children,  walking  up  and  down  with  their 
tins,  (ua  fame  saitli  some  men  do  after  death,)  witli  grave  clothes 
about  ihem ;  and  God  only  know»  whether  ever  they  shall  live 
again  or  noL  How  do  men  lament  the  to»s  of  their  dead  friends  ! 
O,  thou  haet  a  preciouK  soul  in  thy  borara  elark  dead ;  therefore 
lament  thine  estate,  and  consider  it  aeiiously. 

First.  A  dead  man  ean  not  atir,  nor  offer  to  stir ;  n  wicked  man 
can  not  spealc  one  gooil  word,  or  do  any  good  action,  if  heaven 
itself  did  lie  at  the  stake  for  doing  it,  nor  offer  Co  shake  off  hi« 
mns,  nor  thinl>  one  good  tboughL  Indeed,  he  may  speak  and 
think  of  good  things,  but  he  can  not  have  good  speeches,  nor 
good  Ihou^htH ;  as  a  holy  man  nay  think  of  evil  things  as  of 
the  sins  of  the  times,  the  thought  of  those  evil  things  b  good,l1 
not  evil,  io  e  contra.  \ 

Secondly.  A  dead  man  fears  no  dangers,  though  never  so 
great,  though  never  so  near.  Let  ministers  bring  a  natural 
man  tidings  of  the  approach  of  the  devouring  plagues  of  God  de- 
nounced, lie  fears  them  not. 

Thirdly.    A  dead  man  can  not  be  drawn  to  accept  of  the  best 
offer*.     Let  Christ  come  out  of  heaven,  and  fall  ^hont  the  neck   , 
*f  a  naluntl  man.  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes  beseech  him  to  take  ' 
%is  blood,  himself,  his  kingdom,  and  leave  his  sins,  he  can  noi 
reeeive  this  offer. 

Fourthly.  A  dead  man  is  stark  blind,  and  can  see  nothing,  and 
Ktark  deaf,  and  hears  nothing,  he  can  not  taste  any  thing  ;  bo  a 
Batuntl  mah  is  stark  blind,  he  sees  no  God,  no  Christ,  nu  wrath 
of  the  Almighty,  no  glory  of  heaven.  He  hears  tlie  voice  of  a 
man,  but  he  bears  not  the  voice  of  God  in  a  sermon  ;  "  he  eai'or- 
elh  not  the  things  of  God's  Spirit" 

.  Fifthly.  A  de^d  man  ia  senseless,  and  feels  nothing:  so  cast 
mountains  of  sin  upon  a  wicked  man,  he  feels  no  hurt  until  the 
flnmea  of  hell  break  out  upon  him. 

Sixthly.  A  dead  man  is  a  speechless  man  ;  be  can  not  speak 
unless  it  be  like  a  parrol. 

Seventhly.  He  is  a  breathless  nan :  a  natural  man  may  eaj  a 
srayer,  or  devise  a  prayer  out  of  his  memory  and  wit,  or  be  uiay 
BAve  a  few  short-winded  wishes ;  but  to  |K>ur  out  bis  soul  in 

rayer,  in  tlie  bosom  of  God,  wiih  groans  unutterable,  he  can  not. 
wonder  not  to  see  at  many  families  without  family  prayer.l 
Vhy  ?    They  are  dead  men,  and  lie  nilting  in  ihcir  sins.  R 


Sb  tin:    t^lKL-ERE    tOSVERT.     , 

Eiglillily.  AileaJ  manhAth  lost  nllbemily:  so  n  mere  natural 
IDAn  lialh  lost  nil  ^lory  ;  be  is  lui  uj:ly  cr<^ii1iire  in  llie  aioht  of 
God,  good  men,  und  aiigc-U,  and  shall  onu  (Uy  be  ud  abhorriug 
to  all  Sesit. 

t  Ninthly.  Adeiid  nion  hath  his  worms  gnnninghim:  sonalurnl 
en  liave  Uie  worm  of  conscience  breeding  now ;  which  will  lie 
IB  wing  ibem  shortly. 

Lastly.  l>ead  men  wani  nothing  but  cnsting  into  the  grave  :  so 
there  wants  nothing  but  easting  into  bell  for  a  natural  man.  So 
that,  as  AbrHham  loved  Sarah  well  while  living,  yet  when  she  waa 
dead,  he  geeks  for  ii  burying-phice  for  her  to  carry  her  out  of  bis 
ngbl.     So  God  may  let  some  fearfiil  judgment  loose,  and  say  to 

,  it,  Take  this  dead  soul  out  of  my  sight,  etc  It  was  a  wonder 
that  Lazarus,  though  lying  but  four  days  in  the  grave,  should 
live  again.  0,  wonder  iboa  that  ever  God  sliould  let  thee  live, 
that  bast  been  rotting  in  thy  »in  twenty,  thirty,  perhaps  sixty 
jears  together. 
— —  IIL  Every  natural  man  and  woman  is  born  full  of  all  sin, 
(Boro.  i.  29,)  as  full  as  a  toad  is  of  poison,  as  full  as  ever  his  skin 
can  hold ;  mind,  will,  eyes,  mouth,  every  limb  of  his  body,  and 
every  piece  of  his  soul,  is  full  of  sin ;  iheir  hearts  are  bundles  of 
sin ;  hence  Solomon  saitb,  ''  Foolishness  is  bound  up  in  the  heart 
of  a  child;"  whole  treotmres  of  sin.  "An  evil  man,  (said  ChriGl,) 
out  of  the  evil  treasure  of  big  heart,  bringeth  forth  evil  things ; " 
nay,  raging  seas  of  siu.  Tlie  tongue  is  a  world  of  mischief. 
What  is  the  heart  then  ?  "  For  out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  the  tongue  spcnkuth  :''  so  that,  look  about  thee  and  see,  what- 
ever sin  is  broached,  and  mns  ont  of  any  man's  heart  into  bis 

^£e  through  the  whole  worM,  all  those  sins  are  in  thine  heart ; 

\lny  mind  is  a  nest  of  all  the  foul  opinions,  heresies,  that  ever 
were  vented  by  any  man  ;  thy  heart  is  a  foul  sink  of  all  atheism, 
sodomy,  blasphemy,  murder,  whoredom,  adultery,  witcbcrafl. 
buggery  ;  so  lliiil,  if  thou  hast  any  good  thing  in   thee,  it  is  but 

I  as  a  drop  of  I'osewaler  in  a  bowl  of  poii^on ;  where  fallen  it  is 

1 1  all  corrupted. 

1  L^'It  is  true  ibou  feelcst  not  nil  these  things  stirring  in  thee  at 
j  one  time,  no  more  than  Hazacl  thought  be  was  or  should  be  such 
a  bloodsucker,  when  he  asketl  the  prophet  Kli»ha  if  he  were  a 
dog  i  but  they  are  in  thee  like  a  nest  uf  snakes  in  an  old  hed<;c. 
Although  tiiey  break  not  out  into  thy  life,  they  lie  lurking  in  thy 
heart;  ihey  ai^  there  as  a  Slthy  puddle  in  a  barrel,  which  runs 
not  out,  because  thou  happily  wantest  (be  temptation  or  occasion 
to  brooch  and  tap  thine  heart ;  or  because  of  God's  restraining 
grace  by  fear,  shame,  education,  and  good  company,  thou   '  ^ 


arttj 


THE   SISCE8K    CONVKRT.  29 

feiitrAined  ami  bridled  up,  and  ibei-erore  when  one  i.'ame  to  com- 
■  fan  ihtit  famous  picture,  pattern,  and  monument  of  Goil's  justice 
by  seven  years'  horror,  and  grievous  distress  of  conscience,  when 

e  told  him  he  never  linil  committed  anch  sins  as  Manasses,  and 
therefore  he  was  not  the  greatest  sinner  since  the  creation,  as  he 
conceived,  lie  replied,  that  he  should  have  been  worse  than  ever 
Afanasses  was,  if  be  had  lived  in  his  time,  and  been  on  bis 
du-one.  ,— 

Mr.  Bradfonl  would  never  liave  looked  upon  any  one's  lewd 
life  with  one  eye,  but  he  would  presently  return  within  big  owh 
breast  with  the  oilier  eye,  and  say,  "  In  this  my  vile  breast  re* 
nnitiG  that  sin,  which,  without  God's  special  grace,  I  should  have 
litled  as  well  as  he."  0,  melhinks  this  might  pull  dowD 
nen's  proud  conceits  of  themselves,  especially  such  as  bear  up 
And  comfort  themselves  in  their  smooth,  honest,  civil  life  ;  such 
MS  through  education  have  been  vraahed  from  all  foul  sins ;  they 
were  never  tainted  with  whoredom,  swearing,  drunlcenness,  or 
profaneness;  and  here  they  think  themselves  so  safe,  that  God 
ean  not  lind  in  his  heart  to  have  a  thought  of  damning  them.  7^ 

0,  consider  of  iJiis  jKiinI,  which  may  make  thee  pull  thine  hair 
Itom  thine  hfttd,  and  turn  thy  elothej  to  sackcloth,  and  run  up 

and  down  willi  amazement  and  paleness  in  thy  face,  and  horror 
in  thy  conscience,  and  tears  in  thine  eyes.     What  though  thy  life 
be  smooth,  what  llmugh  thy  outside,  thy  sepulcher,  lie  piunted?  . 
.O,  tbou  art  full  of  rottenness,  of  sin,  within.     Guilty,  not  before  X 
,  nen.  as  the  sins  of  thy  life  make  thee,  but  before  God,  of  all  the 
s  that  swarm  and  roar  in  the  whole  world  at  this  day,  for  Gud 
,  looks  to  the  heart ;  guilty  thou  art  therefore  of  heart  whoredom,^ 
hem  WXUimy,  heart  blasphemy,  heart  drunkenness,  heart. bug- 
tgery,  heart  oppression,  be:ii-t  idohitry;  and  these  are  the  sins 
>  Ibal  terribly  provoke  the  wrath  of  Almighty  God  against  thee, 
(li.  Ivii.  17.)  "For  the  iniquity  of  his  covetousness,"  salth  our 
translation,  "  I  smote  him  ; "  but  the  Hebrew  renders  it  bettor  —    1 
**  For  the  iniquily  of  his  concupiscence  "  (which  is  the  sin  of  his  y 
henrf  and    nature)  ''  I  smote  him."     As  a  king  is  angry  and 
Blusters  up  bis  army  against  rebels,  not  only  which  brings  his 
•oldiers  uQt  to  li^hl,  but  who  keeps  soldiers  in  their  trenches 
k<nady  fur   to   lighL     These   sins  of  thine  heart  are  all  ready 
incd  to  fight  against  God  at  Uie  watchword  or  alarm  of  any 
l,4nnptalion.     Nay,  I  dare  nOirm  and  will  prove  it,  that  these  sins 
■  provoke  God  to  anger,  and  are  as  bod,  if  not  worse,  than  the  sins 
i  thy  life.     For,— 

1.  The  sin  of  thine  heart  or  nature  is  the  cause,  the  womb 
Wfit»t  contain*,  breeds.  bnn^Tortli.  suckles  4II  the  litter,  all  (he 


troop  of  sina  tUal  are  in  thy  life;  «nU  iherefore,  giving-life  and 
being  to  all  olher,  it  is  the  grenlest  sin. 

2.  Sin  is  more  abundantly  injU  jiypirt  tlmfi  in  the  life.  An 
actual  Bin  ia  hut  a  little  breach  made  hy  the  sea  of  am  in  lliios 
hoiirt,  wlicre  all  em,  all  poieon,  ia  met  and  miDgled  together. 
Every  actual  sin  is  but  as  a  shred  broken  oif  from  the  great  bottom 
of  sin  iit  the  heurt ;  and  hence  Christ  saitb,  "  Out  of  the  abun- 
dance of  the  heart  the  mouth  speakethj  and  out  of  the  ei-il 
treasure  of  the  heart  we  bring  forth  evil  thingg."  A  man  spend- 
ing money  (I  mean  sin  in  the  life)  ia  nothing  to  his  irensure  of 
sin  in  the  heart. 

8.  Sin  is  continually  in^e  heai't.  Actual  sins  of  the  life  fly 
ont  lite  sparks,  and  vnniflh;  but  this  brand  is  always  glowinff 
within :  the  toad  B[)its  poison  sometimes,  but  it  retains  and  keeps 
&  poisonful  nature  always.  Hence  the  apostle  calls  it  "  sin  that 
dwells  in  me,"  that  is,  which  always  lies  and  remains  in  me.  So 
that,  in  regard  of  the  sins  of  thy  heart,  thou  dust  rend  in  piccn 
V^  and  break,  1.  All  tlie  laws  of  God.  2.  At  one  clap.  3.  Ev- 
ery moment  of  lliy  life.  O,  melhinks  llie  thought  of  this 
might  rend  a  heart  of  rock  in  pieces ;  to  think  I  am  always 
I    grieving  God  at  all  times,  whatsoever  I  <!o. 

4.  Actual  sins  are  only  in  the  life  and  outward  porch  ;  sins  of 

'    the  heart  are  within  the  inwani  house.     One  enemy  within  tba 

I  city  is  worse    than    many  without ;   a   traitor  on   the   throne 

is  worse  than  a  traitor  in  the  open  tield.     The  heart  is  Christ's 

,     throne.     A  swine   in  the  best  room  is  worse   than  in  the  out- 

■ward  house.     More  1  might  say  ;  but  thus,  you  see,  sins  of  the 

life  ure  not  so  bad,  nor  provoke  God's  wrath  so  fiercely  against 

thee,  as  the  sins  of  thine  heart.     Mourn,  therefore,  not  so  much 

that  thou  hast  not  been  so  had  as  others  ore,  but  look  upon  thy 

black  feet  —  look  within  thiiin  own  lieoi-t,  and  lament  that,  ia 

J  regard  of  thy  sins  there,  thou  art  as  bad  as  any ;  m 
much  merely  that  thou  hast  sinned,  as  that  thou  hast  __ 

imtui,  [bat  It  is  iby  naturejojie  pi^d,  ana  thy  nature  lo  be  vi 
JBKTffeCei I f ijTj"aniI  loathe  not  only  (tiy  sins;  iinr  Wyself  "      ' 
sin;  being  hrimful  of   unrighteousness.     But  here  i 
Consider  fourthly. 

IV.  That  whatever  a  naUiiul  man  doth  is  sin ;  as  the  in*  1 
side  is  full,  so  the  outside  is  n'otliing^elaeTjut  sin,  at  least  in  ihs  I 
sight  of  H  holy  God,  thougli  not  in  the  sight  of  blind,  sinful  I 
men.  Indued,  be  mivy  do  many  things,  which,  for  the  matter  of  I 
/'them,  wo  good ;  as  he  may  give  alma,  pray,  fast,  come  M  1 
church :  but  as  they  come  from  him  they  are  sin ;  as  a 
may  speak  goofl  words,  hut  we  can  not  endure  to  hear  him  i[ 
because  of  liis  stinking  breath  which  defiles  iheia.     Some  actiin 


1 

I 


THE    HISCCKK    COSVKBT, 


31 


tnileeil.  from  ibi^ir  gcnenil  nature,  are  indiSerenl,  fur  nil  iniiiffrr- 
'«  lie  in  gentrah;  but  ever/ deliberalfi  nciion,  considered  in 
individwt,  with  all  its  circumsianced,  lu  lime,  plnve,  motive,  en(l,\ 
u  either  morally  good  or  morally  evil,  as  mtty  be  proved  ensilv; 
mornlly  good  in  good  men,  morally  evil  in  unregenenile  and  bud 
men,     For  let  us  sec  particular  autiane  of  wicked  men. 

t.  All  their  thoughts  are  only  evil,  and  that  eotitinually. 
(Gen.  vi.  5.) 

2.  All  their  words  Are  sins,  {Vi.  1.  16:)  their  moittha  are  open 
-  wpukhers.  which  fmell  filthy  when  they  are  opened. 

3.  All  their  civil  actions  are  Bins,  aa  their  eating,  drinking, 
buying,  M-'lting,  sleeping,  and  ploughing,  (Prov.  xxi.  4.) 

4.  All  their  religious  acticaia  are  siiia,  aa  coming  to  church, 
prnying,  (Pniv.  xv.  8,  9;  xxviii.  9,)  fasting  and  mourning:  roiir 
Mid  cry  out  of  thyself  till  doom^duy,  they  are  sinfi.  (Is.  Iviii.) 

5.  All  their  most  zealous  actions  arc  sins,  as  Jehu,  who  killtid 
all  Uattl's  priesra:  because  his  action  was  outwardly  and  male- 
rialty  good,  therefore  God  rewarded  him  with  temporal  favors ; 
but  because  he  had  a  hawk's  eye  to  get  and  settle  a  kingdom  to 
himself  by  this  means,  and  so  was  theologically  evil,,  therefore 
God  threatens  to  be  revenged  u]K>n  him.  (llosea  i.  4.) 

I  6.  Their  wisdom  is  sin.  O,  men  are  often  commended  for 
I  their  wisdom,  wit,  and  parts  ;  yet  thoiie  nits,  and  that  wisdom  of 
I  theirs,  are  am.  (Rom.  viii.)  The  wisdom  of  the  flesh  ia  enmity 
f  against  God. 

I  Thus  all  they  have  or  do  are  sins ;  for  bow  can  he  do  any 
I  good  action  whosqpersonj4_Jillhy  ?  "A  corrupt  tree  can  not 
I    bring  forth  good  fniirr''thiiirnfn>ut  of  Christ ;  therefore  all  ihy 

K>d  things,  all  Ihy  kindnesses  done  unio  the  Lord,  and  for  the 
rd,  >s  thou  thiakest,  are  most  odious  to  him.  I^'t  a  womafl' 
I  seek  to  give  all  the  content  to  her  husband  that  may  be,  not  out  I 
I  of  any  bve  to  him,  but  only  out  of  love  to  another  man.  he  1 
I  Abhor*  all  that  she  doth.  Kvery  wicked  man  wants  an  inward  , 
I  if  rincigle  ofJgJX.tO.  God  and_  Christ,  and  therefore,  ttioti  01  Il6" 
I  teelts  to  honor  God  n<iver  so  niucli,  all  that  he  dotli  being  done  | 
tout  of  love  to  himaelf,  God  abhors  all  that  he  performs.  All  tliu 
I  goad  lBTiT]^~a  wicK6?~  man  doth  ore  for  himself,  either  for  self- 
&  credit  or  self-case,  or  setf-content,  or  8ell.^tely :  W  tiee|ia, 
I  pmya,  hears,  speaks,  prof<-«selh  for  himself  alone  ;  hence,  acting 

■  always  fur  himself,  he  committelh  the  highest  degree  of  idolatry; 

■  bo  plucks  God  out  of  his  throne,  and   makes  himself  a  god,  , 
B  because  he  makes  himself  his   loAt  end   in  every  action  i  for  n 
B  Bum  puts  bimM-'lf  in  the  room  of  God  as  well  bv  making  him- 
P«elf  his //Hi  «//iV/iiu.  lu    if   he    should    make    hXuiMf  priuima 


\jp' 


.  Sill  is  II  rorsiiking  or  dfpnriiiig  IViim  Gml.  Now, 
KfHTy  uuiural  'inan~i¥iilfii'miig  nlways  iii  a,  stale  of  ^efisratiaK 
from  Grod,  because  he  iilwiiys  wants  the  bond  of  union,  whieh  » 
faith,  is  nlwnys  ginning;  God's  ctir^  lies  ui>onliira;  therefore  hft 
lirinj^  out  nothing  but  briers  nn<l  thorne. 

Objection.  But  iliou  wilt  bbv,.  If  our  pniyiag  and  hearing  be  sin, 
\rhj  should  we  do  IliCKe  duties  ?     We  must  not  sin.  ^ 

AMieer  1.  Good  duties  are  good  in  lhem8elve3,  although,  romiog 
tntn  thy  vile  heart,  ihey  are  sins. 

2.  It  ia  less  sin  to  do  ihem  than  to  omit  themi  thei-efore,  if 
Ihon  will  go  to  hell,  go  in  the  fairest  path  ihou  canst  in  thilher. 

3.  Venture  and  try ;  it  inny  be  God  muy  hear,  not  for  thy 
prayers' sake,  but  tor  his  name's  sake.  Tlie  unjust  judge  helped  the 
poor  widow,  not  beenuse  he  loved  her  suit,  but  for  her  importu- 
nity ;  and  so  bo  euro  thou  elialt  have  nothing  if  thou  dost  oot 
sefek.  What  though  thou  art  a  dog.  yet  thou  art  alive,  and  art  for 
the  preaent  under  the  liible.  Cateh  not  at  Clinet,  snatch  not  at 
his  bread,  but  wait  till  God  give  thee  him;  it  may  be  thou 
mayest  have  him  one  day.  O,  wonder  then  at  God's  patience, 
ihnt  thou  live^t  one  day  longer,  who  liast  ail  thy  lifetime,  like  & 
filthy  toad,  spit  ihy  venom  in  the  face  of  God,  that  he  hath  never 
been  (|uit  of  [bee.  O,  look  ujion  thai  black  bill  that  will  one, 
day  be  put  in  against  thee  at  the  great  day  of  account,  when 
tliou  must  answer  with  flames  of  fire  about  thine  ears,  not 
only  for  thy  drunkenness,  thy  bloody  oaths  and  whoring,  but  for 
all  the  actions  of  thy  short  life,  and  just  so  many  actions  n 
many  sins. 

Thou  hast  pajiilcd  thy  face  over  now  with  good  duties  and 
good  desires;  and  a  little  honesty,  amongst  some  men,  is  of  tliM 
worth  and  rarity,  that  they  think  God  is  beholding  to  them,  if  he 
can  gel  any  good  action  from.  But  when  thy  painted  face  shatt' 
be  brought  before  the  fire  of  God's  wrath,  then  lliy  vilenesa  Bboll 
appear  before  men  and  angclji.  O,  know  it,  that  as  ihou  doat 
nothing  else  but  sin,  so  God  heaps  np  wrath  against  the  dreadful, 
day  of  wrath.  * 

Thus  much  for  man's  misery  in  regard  of  sin. 

Now  followeth  his  misery  in  reganl  of  the  consequents  or  mic? 
eries  that  follow  upon  sin.   And  these  arc,  1.  Presence.  2.  Fuliir«.. 

First.  Man's  present  miseriis,  that  ah-eady  lie  on  him  for  sioj. 
are  these  seven  ;  that  is, — 
./     First.  God  is  his  dreadful  enemy.  (Ps.  v. .').) 

Qufition,   How  may  one  know  another  to  be  his  enemy  ? 

Antwer  I.    Bv  their  looks.     2.  By  their  threats.    3.  By: 
blow^.     So  God,'— 


THE    SIXCEBB    CONVERT.  38 

1.  Hides  hU  face  from  every  natural  man,  and  will  not  look 
upon  him.    (Is.  lix.  2.) 

2,  Goil  llireatens.nay.cursethevery  natural  man.  (Gal.iii.  10.) 
a.  God  gives  them  heavy,  liloody  Inshes  on  Iheir  souls  and  " 

Never  tell  me,  therefore,  tliBt  God  blesMJthjhee  in  thiiie  out-    , 
wiinl  frt'"'" ;  no  greater  sign  of   God's  wrath  than  for  tlie  Lord ' 
to  ^ve  thee  thv  swing,  as  a  father  never  looks  aflcr  a  desperate  ' 
Bun,  but  lets  "him  run  where  Tie  pleases.     And  if  God  be  thine 
enemy,  then  every  creature  is  so  too,  both  io  heaven  and  earth. 

Seconiily.  God  hath  forsaken  them,  and  they  have  lost  Godl 
(K^h.  ii.  12.)  It  is  said,  that,  in  the  grievous  famine  of  Samaria, 
doves'  dung  was  sold  at  a  large  price,  because  they  wanted 
bread.  O,  men  live  and  pine  away  without  God,  without  bread, 
knd  therefore  the  dung  of  worldly  contentments  are  esteemed  so 
nuch  of,  thou  host  lost  the  sight  of  God,  and  the  favor  of  God, 
And  the  special  protection  of  God,  and  the  government  of  God. 
Cain's  punishment  lies  upon  thee  in  thy  natural  estate ;  thou  art  a 
runagate  from  the  face  of  God,  and  from  his  tace  thou  art  hid. 
llany  have  grown  mad  to  see  their  houses  burnt,  and  all  their 
ipoods  lost.  O,  but  God,  the  greatest  good,  U  tost.  This  loss  made 
Saul  cry  out  in  distress  of  conscience,  (1  Sam.  szviii.  15,)  The 
Philistines  make  war  against  me,  and  God  is  departed  from  me  ; 
the  lossof  the  sweetness  of  whose  presence,  for  a  little  while  only, 
made  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  cry  out.  My  God,  roy  God,  why  hast 
thou  forsaken  me  ?  whereas  thou  hast  lost  God  all  thy  lifetime. 
O.  thou  liast  a  heart  of  brass,  that  canst  not  mourn  for  hiii  absenw 
■D  long.  The  damned  in  hell  have  lost  God,  and  know  it,  and  so  t 
thi'  plague  of  dl^iierate  horror  lieth  upon  them ;  thou  liosl  lost 
God  here,  but  knowest  it  not.  and  the  pla£<je  of  a.  tmrd  brnrt  tielh 
Upon  tliL-u,  thou  that  canst  not  mourn  tor  this  loss.  . 

Thirdly.  They  are  condemned  men,  condemned  in  the  courN^ 
of  God's  justice,  by  the  law  which  cries.  Treason,  treason  against 
the  niaiit  high  God,  and  condemned  in  the  court  of  mercy,  by  the 
gnspeh  which  erics,  Murder,  murder  against  the  Son  of  God, 
(John  iii.  18;)  so  that  every  natural  man  is  damned  in  heaven, 
and  dnmneti  on  eariii.  (^>d  is  thy  all-seeing,  tercibla  Judge;  eon- 
Mience  is  tliinc  accuser,  a  heavy  witness  i  this  world  is  thy  jail;  I 
Ay  lujla  KK  thy  fetters.  In  thiK  Bible  is  pronounced  and  writ 
thy  doom,  thy  sentence.  Death  is  thy  liiuigman,  and  that  fire  that 
•hall  never  go  out  thy  torment.  TItc  Lord  hnilt  in  his  infinite 
patience  reprieved  iht^e  fur  a  time  :  O,  lake  heed  and  get  a  par- 
wn  before  the  day  of  execution  come. 

Fuunhly.   Ileinj;  condemned,  lake  him,  jailer;  he  is  a  l>nridKlave 


m  THE     atNCE 

lo  Siidiri,  (Epli.  ii.  S:)  for,  Ilia  sen-ants  ye  are  whom  ye  obey, 
snitti  CbrisL  Now,  every  natural  man  dolli  the  devil's  drudgeryi 
and  carries  the  devil's  pnuk ;  and  hgivsoever  lie  saith  he  delieltl* 
the  ilevil,  yet  he  eina,  and  so  doth  his  work.  Satan  balh  overr' 
come  and  conquered  all  men  in  Adam,  and  tlierefore  they  are: 
under  his  bondage  and  dominion.  And  though  he  ean  not  compd, 
a  man  to  em  against  his  will,  yet  he  hath  power,  — 

Ftrat.  Tu  present  and  allure  man's  heart  by  a  sinful  tem[H 
(ation. 

Secondly.  To  follow  him  with  it,  if  at  fintt  he  be  something. 
Bhy  of  iL 

Thirdly.  To  disquiet  and  rack  him,  if  lie  will  not  yield, 
might  be  made  lo  appear  in  many  instances. 

Fourthly.  Besides,  he  knows  men's  humors,  as  poor  wondoF' 
ing,  beggarly  gentlemen  do  their  friends  in  necessity,  (yet  in.' 
seeming  courtesy,)  he  visits  and  applies  himself  unto  them,  anA 
80  gains  them  as  his  own.  O,  he  is  in  a  fearful  slavery  who  il 
under  Satan's  dominion,  who  'm 

1.  A  iecret  enemy  lo  thee. 

2.  A  deceitful  enemy  to  thee,  thnt  will  make  a  man  belieye  (U 
he  did  Evah,  even  in  her  integrity)  chat  he  is  iu  a  fair  way, 
when  his  condition  i»  miserable. 

3.  He  is  a  cruel  enemy  or  lord  over  them  that  be  his  slavey, 
(2  Cor.  iv.  -i ;)  be  gags  them  so  that  they  can  not  speak,  (as  that: 
man  that  had  a  dumb  devil,)  neither  for  God,  nor  to  God,  in  prayer  [ 
he  starves  them,  so  as  no  sermon  shall  ever  do  them  good  j  he"' 
robs  them  of  all  they  get  in  God's  ordinances,  within  three  houiS 
tJit^  the  market,  Ihc  sermon  ia  ended. 

4.  He  is  aslrofigenemy.  (Liikexi.21.)  So  tliat  if  all  thedevik 
in  hell  are  able  to  keep  men  from  coming  out  of.  their  sins.htf 
will:  ao  strong  an  enemy,  that  he  keeps  men  from  so  much  a 
sighing  or  groaning  under  their  burdens  and  bondage.  (Luke  xi. 
21.)     Wheu  Ihc  strong  man  keeps  the  jwlace,  his  goods  are  in 

Fifthly.  He  is  cast  into  utter  darkness ;  as  cruel  jailers  put  their 

prisoners  into  the  worst  dungeons,  so  Satan  doili  natural  men, 

(2  Cor.  iv.  3,  4 ;)  they  see  no  God,  no  Christ ;  lliey  see  not  the 

happiness  of  the  saints  in  light ;  they  see  not  those  drcndful  tor- 

menis  that  should  now  in  this  day  of  grace  awaken  them  and 

bumble  them.     O,  those  by-paths  which  thousands  wander  from 

God  in.  they  have  no  lamp  to  their  feet  to  show  them  where  they 

nerr.     Thou  that  art  in  thy  natural  estate,  art  horn  Mind,  and 

11  the  devil  halh  blinded  thine  eyes  more  by  sin,  and  God  ii;  justicA  . 

Hhad  blinded  ihem  worse  tor  sin.  so  that  ihou  art  in  n  cdn>er  <fm 


hell,  because  thou  art  in  utter  darkness,  nliere  iliou  iiitst  not  ii 
glimpse  of  any  saving  truth. 

Sisthlj.  Thej  ure  bound  hand  ami  foot  \a  (his  estate,  and 
GMi  not  come  out,  (Rom.  v.  ti ;  1  Cor.  ii.  14 ;)  for  hU  kind  of  sins, 
like  chains,  have  bouud  every  port  and  faculty  of  man,  so  ilutt  . 
he  is  sure  for  stirring ;  and  tliose  are  very  strong  in  him,  they 
being  as  dmr  as  his  members,  nay,  aa  his  life,  (Col.  iii.  7 ;)  so 
that  when  a  man  begins  to  forsake  his  vile  courses,  and  pur< 
pDseih  to  beeome  a  new  tnan,  ilevils  fetch  liim  bat^k,  world 
enticetb  him,  and  locketh  him  up ;  and  flesh  snith,  O,  it  is  too 
•trict  a  course  j  farewell,  then,  merry  days  and  good  fellowship. 
V  O,  ihou  mayest  wish  and  desire  to  come  out  some  time,  but  caniit 
Dot  put  strengtli  to  thy  desire,  nor  endure  to  do  it.  Thou 
mayeflt  hang  down  thy  bead  like  a  bulrush  for  sin,  but  thou 
canst  not  repent  of  sin ;  thou  mayost  presume,  hut  thou  canst 
not  believe  ;  Ihou  mayest  come  lialf  way,  and  forauke  some  sins, 
but  not  all  sins;  ttiou  mayest  come  and  knock  at  heaven's  gale, 
M  the  foolish  virgins  did,  hut  not  enter  in  and  pass  through 
the  gale ;  thou  mayest  see  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  take  much 
pwii  to  go  into  Canaan,  and  mayest  tadto  of  the  bunches  of 
grapes  of  that  good  land,  but  never  enter  into  Canaan,  into 
heaven,  but  lliou  lie  bound,  hand  anil  foot,  in  this  woful  estate, 
wid  here  thou  must  lie  and  rot  like  a  dead  carijass  in  his  grave, 
until  the  Lord  come  and  roll  away  the  stone,  and  bid  thee  come  '- 
out  and  live. 

LASlly.     They  are   ready  every  moment  to  drop  into  hell. 
God  is  a  consuming  fire  against  thee,  and  there  is  but  one  pajier  it 
wait  of  thy  body  between  thy  soul  and  eternal  flames.     How  II 
■oun  may  God  slop  thy  breath!     There  is  nothing  but  that  be- 
tween tbee   and   hell;   if  that  were   gone,   then   farewell  all^ 
Thou  art  condemned,  and  the  muffler  is  before  thin 
knows  how  suou  the  ladder  may  be  turned;  thou  baugest  b 
one  rotten   twined  thread  of  thy  life,  over  the  flames  c 
every  hour.  *" 

Thus  ranch  of  man's  present  miseries. 

Now  followelh  his  future  miseries,  whicJi  aie  to  come  upon 
him  hereafter, 

I.  They  must  die  either  by  a  sudden,  sullen,  or  desperate  death, 
(Ps.  IsxAix.  48,)  which  though  it  is  to  a  child  of  God  a  sweet 
sleep,  yet  to  llie  wicked  it  is  a  fearful  curse  proceeding  from 
God's  wrath,  whence,  like  a  lion,  he  t«ars  body  and  soul  asunder ; 
death  comelh  hissing  U|>on  him  like  a  Sery  dragon  with  the  sfing 
of  vengeance  in  the  mouth  of  it ;  it  puts  a  period  to  all  their 
worMly  contentmenti,  which  then  they  must  forsake,.an(l  carry 


tare  wen  all. 
e  eyes.  Goal 
uigest  but  by  I 
lames  of  hell  I 


COSVEnT. 


iiottiinr;  aSyay  witli  them  but  a  rotten  winding  BheeL  It  is  llie 
beginning  of  all  their  woe ;  it  is  the  cnplAin  that  first  strikes  the 
Etrokc,  and  then  armiiis  of  endless  woes  follow  after.  (Rev. 
rrrrz.)  O,  Ihou  had=t  better  be  a  toad,  or  a  dog,  than  a  man,  for 
there's  an  end  of  their  troubles  when  they  are  dead  and  gone  ; 
thej  full  not  as  men  from  n  steep  hil),  not  knowing  where  they 
shall  fall :  novr  repentance  ie  too  late,  eBpecially  if  thou  hudst 
lived  under  means  before ;  it  is  either  cold  rejicntftnce,  when  the 
body  is  weak,  and  the  heart  is  8i<?k,  or  a  hypocritical  repentance, 
only  for  fear  of  hell;  and  therefore  thou  sayest,  "Lord  Jesus, 
.  Ireeeive  my  soul."  Nay,  commonly  then,  men's  hearts  are  most 
\J  HiSTd,  and  therefore  men  die  like  lambs,  and  cry  not  out; 
then  it  is  hard  plucking  thy  soul  from  the  denl's  hands,  to  whom 
thou  hast  given  it  all  thy  life  by  sin;  and  if  thou  dost  get  it 
back,  dost  thou  think  that  God  will  take  the  devil's  leavings  ? 

I  Now  thy  day  is  past,  and  darkness  begins  to  overspread  thy  soul ; 
now  flocks  of  devils  come  into  thy  chamber,  waiting  for  thy  soul, 
to  fly  upon  it  as  a  masiiR*  dog  when  the  door  is  opened.  And 
this  is  the  reason  whj-  most  men  die  quietly  that  lived  wicke<lly, 
because  Satan  then  hath  them  as  his  own  prey;  Uke  pirates, 
who  let  a  ship  pass  that  is  empty  of  goods,  they  shoot  cotnmonly  at 
them  that  are  richly  loaden.  The  Christians,  in  some  parts  of  the 
primitive  church,  took  the  sacrament  every  day,  because  ihcy 
did  look  to  die  every  day.  But  these  limes  wherein  we  live  are 
>^B0  poisoned  and  glutted  with  their  ease,  that  it  is  a  rare  thing  to 
see  the  man  that  looks  death  steadfastly  in  the  face  one  hour  to- 
gether :  hut  death  will  lay  a  bitter  stroke  on  these  one  day/ 

II.  Af)er  dcaih  they  appear  before  the  Lord  to  judgiueni, 
(Heb.  ix.  27  ;)  Ihcir  bodies  indeed  rot  in  their  graves,  but  their 
souls  return  before  the  Lord  to  judgment.  (Eecles.  sii.  7.)  fXhe 
general  judgment  is  at  the  end  of  the  world,  when  both  body 
',  and  soul  appear  before  God,  and  all  the  world  to  an  account 
iBut  there  is  a  particular  judgment  that  every  man  meets  with 
after  this  life,  immediately  at  the  end  of  his  life,  where  the  soul 
is  condemned  only  before  the  Lord. 

You  may  perceive  what  this  particular  judgment  is,  thus,  by 
.  these  fiiur  conclus  ons  — 

I  1.  That  every  n  an  «!  ould  die  the  first  day  he  was  bom,  is 
Iclear;  for  "the  wages  ol  s  n  sdcaih;"  in  justice,  therefore,  it 
should  be  paid  of  a  s    tul  cruature  as  soon  as  he  is  bom. 

2.  That  it  should  be  thus  w  Ih  wicked  men,  but  that  Christ 
begs  their  lives  lor  a  season    (1  Tim.  ir.)     He  irtbrrSiHuutc  of 
^  irf-  ill  Sien  ;  that  is,  not  a  Sn    our  uf  eternal  preservation  out  of  hell, 
^K^^||^*-£M'ionr  of  tempornl  reservation  from  dropping  into  helL  ■ 


THE  sikcehg  convert.  57 

3.  That  thia  space  of  time,  tbuA  begged  by  Christ,  is  thttt| 
teason  wbereia  only  a  man  c&n  muke  hid  peace  with  a  displeased 
God.    (2  Cor.  \\.  2.  )  

4,  That  if  meo  do  not  ihus  within  this  cut  of  time,  when  death 
hath  despatched  them,  judgment  only  remains  for  them  ;  that  ia, 

their  doom  is  read,  tlieir  dale  of  repentance  is  out,  then 
their  sentence  of  everlasting  death  is  passed  upon  them,  that 
never  can  be  recalled  again.  And  this  is  judgment  after  death. 
"He  that  judgeih  himself,"  saith  the  aponlle.  (1  Cor.  xi.  31,) 
ehall  not  be  judged  of  the  Lord."  Now,  wicked  men  will  not 
judge  and  condemn  themselves  in  this  life;  therefore,  at  the  end  of 
it,  God  will  judge  ibetn.  All  natural  men  are  lost  in  this  life,  but 
diey  may  be  found  and  recovered  again j  but  a  man's  loss  by  ^Z 
detvih  is  irrecoverable,  because  there  is  no  means  after  death  t(^/ 
restore  them,  there  is  no  friend  to  persuade,  no  minister  U> 
preach,  by  which  faith  is  wrought,  and  men  get  into  Christ ; 
there  is  no  power  of  returning  or  repenting  then;  for  night  ii 
flome,  and  the  day  is  past 

Again:  the  punishment  is  so  heavy  that  they  can  only  bear 
wruh,  so  that  all  their  ihoughls  and  an'octious  are  taken  up  with 
(be  burden.  And,  therefore,  Dives  cries  out,  "  I  am  tormented." 
O  that  the  considcnition  of  this  point  might  awaken  every  secure 
•inner!  What  will  become  of  thine  immortal  soul  when  ihoo 
art  dead  ?  Thou  saycst,  1  know  not ;  I  ho|te  well.  1  tell  thee, 
therefore,  that  which  may  send  tbec  mourning  to  thy  house,  and 
qunking  (o  thy  grave,  if  thou  diest  in  this  esliite,  tbou  shalt  not  dis 
^eadog,  nor  yet  like  a  toad;  but  st^er  death  conies  judgment; 
farewell  friends  when  dying;  and  farewell  Uod  forever, 
when  thou  art  dead. 

Now,  the  Lord  open  your  eyes  (o  see  the  terrors  of  this  par- 
ulsr  judgment ;  which  if  you  could  see,  (unless  you  were  mad,) 
it  would  nuke  you  spend  whole  nights  and  days  in  seeking  to  set 
■11  even  with  Ciod.^ 

will  show  you  briefly  the  manner  and  nature  of  it  in  these 
particuhirs. 

1.  Thy  soul  shall  be  clraggcd  out  of  thy  body,  as  out  of  it 
foul  prison,  by  the  devil,  the  jailer,  into  some  place  within  the 
SowelTot  the  third  heavens,  and  there  thou  sbalt  stand  siripjwd 

all  friends,  all  eotnfort,  all  creatures  before  the  presence  of 
Guft,  (Luke  ix.  27;)  as  at  the  assixes,  first  the  jailer  brings  the 
prisoners  out 

2.  Then  ihy  soul  shall  hare  a  new  light  put  into  it,  whereby 
U  «hnU  we  the  glorious  presence   of  God,  as   prisoners  brought 

Fiiti  guilty  eye«  look  wiili  terror  upon  the  judge.    Now  1^ 
▼OL.  I.  i 


88  THB   SINCERE  CONVEKT. 

seest  no  God  abroad  in  tbe  world,  but  then  thou  shi 
Almighty  Jebovftb,  tvhich  Bight  shall  strike  Ihee  with  that  hellish 
terror  and  dreadrul  horror,  that  ihoii  shalt  call  to  the  mountains 
to  cover  thee  —  "O  rocks,  rocks,  hide  me  from  the  face  of  ibe 
Lamb."  (Rev.  Ti.  ult.) 

S.  Then  all  the  sins  that  ever  thou  haet  or  shalt  commit  sbatt 
■come  fresh  to  thy  mind  ;  as  when  the  prisoner  is  come  before  the 
face  of  the  judge,  then  his  accusers  bring  in  iheir  evidence  ;  tby 
sleepy  conscience  then  will  be  instead  of  a  thousand  witnesses, 
and  every  sin  then,  with  all  the  circumstances  of  it,  shall  be  set  in 
order,  armed  with  God's  wrath  round  about  thee.  (Pa.  1.31.)  As 
letters  writ  with  juice  of  oranges  can  not  be  read  until  it  be 
brought  unto  the  fire,  and  then  they  appear,  so  thou  can  not  read 
that  bloody  bill  of  indictment  thy  conscience  liath  against  ihce 
now  ;  but  when  thou  shalt  stand  near  unio  God,  a  consuming 
fire,  then  what  a  heavy  reckoning  will  appear  1  It  may  be  tliou 
hast  left  many  sins  now,  and  goest  so  far,  and  profitest  so  much, 
that  no  Christian  can  discern  thee ;  nay,  thou  thinkeal  thyself  in 
&  safe  estate  ;  but  yet  there  is  one  leak  in  thy  ship  that  will  sink 
thee :  there  is  one  secret,  hidden  sin  in  thine  heart,  which  Ihori 
livest  in,  as  all  unsound  people  do,  that  will  damn  thee.  I  tell 
thee,  as  soon  as  ever  thou  art  dead  and  gone,  then  thou  shalt  see 
where  the  knot  did  bind  thee,  where  thy  sin  was  that  now  hnih 
spoiled  thee  forever,  and  then  thou  shalt  grow  mad  to  think  —  O 
that  I  never  saw  thu  sin  I  loved,  lived  in,  plotted,  perfected  mine 
own  eternal  ruin  by,  until  now,  when  it  is  loo  late  to  amend ! 

4.  Then  the  Lord  shall  take  hia  everlasting  farewell  of  thee, 
and  make  thee  know  it  too.  Now  God  is  departed  from  thee  in 
this  life,  but  he  may  return  in  mercy  to  thee  again  ;  but  when 
the  Lord  departs  with  all  bis  patience,  to  wait  for  thee  no  more, 
nor  shall  Christ  be  offered  thee  any  more,  no  Spirit  to  strive  with 
thee  any  more,  and  so  shall  pass  sentence,  though  Imply  not 
vocally,  yet  effectually  upon  thy  sotil,  the  Lord  saying.  "  Depart, 
thon  cursed,"  thou  shalt  see  indeed  the  glory  of  God  thai 
others  find,  but  to  thy  greater  sorrow  shall  never  taste  the  same. 
(Luke  liii.  28.) 

5.  Then  shall  God  surrender  up  tby  forsaken  soul  into  tbe 
bands  of  devils,  who,  being  tby  jailers,  must  keep  thee  till  the 

,  i'  great  day  of  account ;  so  that  as  thy  friends  are  scrambling  for 
■  thy  goods,  and  worms  for  tby  body,  so  devils  shall  scramble  for 
I  thy  soul.  For  as  soon  as  ever  a  wicked  man  is  dead,  he  is 
either  in  heaven  or  in  hell.  Not  in  heaven,  for  no  unclean  thing 
comes  there.  If  in  hell,  then  amongst  devils  there  shall  be  thins 
eternal  lodging,  (1  Pet.  iii.  19  ;)  and  hence  thy  forlorn  soul  shall 


i 


*  THE   SINCKRB    COKTERT. 

Ue  mDurning  for  the  lime  post,  >oio  it  is  too  late  to  recall  again  ; 
groiUiing  under  the  intolerable  lormenta  of  the  wralh  of  God 
pre^nt,  and  amazed  at  the  eternity  of  misery  and  sorrow  that  ig 
lo  come ;  waiting  for  that  fearful  hour  wbea  the  last  tramp  shall 
Uoir,  and  then  body  and  soul  meet  to  bear  that  wrath,  that  6re 
that  shall  never  go  out.     O,  therefore,  suspect  and  fear  the  worst~\ ' 
of  thyself  now ;  thou  batt  seldom  or  never,  or  very  little,  troubled  I 
thy  bead  about  this  matter,  whether  Christ  will  save  thee  or  not,  | 
thou  hast  such  strong  hopes  and  confidence  already  that  he  wilL_J 
Know  that  itis^paseible.thoii  maye^t  be  deceived;  and  if  soi 

a  thou  shalt  know  thy  doom  after  denlli,  thou  canst  not  get 
an  hour  more  to  make  liiy  peiice  with  God,  although  thoa 
■houldest  weep  teari  of  blood.  Jf  either  the  muBler  of  ignorance 
■hall  be  before  ibine  eyes,  —  like  a  handkerchief  about  the  face 
of  one  condemned,  —  or  if  thou  art  pinioned  with  any  lust,  or  if 
thou  makesl  thine  own  pardon,  procbiimest  ^because  thou  art 
sorry  a  little  for  thy  sins,  and  resoivest  never  to  do  the  like 
■gain)  peace  to  thy  soul,  thou  art  one  that  after  death  slialt  ap- 
pear before  the  Lord  Ui  judgmenL  Thou  that  an  thus  condemned 
now,  dying  so,  shalt  come  lo  thy  fearful  judgment  af\er  death. 

There  shall  be  a  general  judgment  or  soul  and  body  at  th 
end  of  the  world,  wherein  they  shall  he  arraigned  and  condemned 
before  the  great  tribunal  seat  of  Jesus  Christ.  (Jude  14,  15.  2 
Cor.  V.  10.)  The  bearing  of  judgment  to  corae  made  FeliK  to 
tremble ;  nothing  of  more  efficacy  (o  awaken  a  secure  sini 
than  sad  ihoughis  of  this  fiery  day. 

But  thou  wilt  ask  me  how  it  may  be  proved  that  ther«  will 
be  such  a  day. 

answer,  God's  justice  calls  fur  iL  \  This  world  is  thej^tage? 
irhere  God^s^^tjence  and  bounty  act  their  parts,  and  hence  every  I 
nuui  iriirprofeas~aiid  conceTvei  because  lie  feela  ii,  that  God  is  mer-| 
eiful.  But  Grod's  justice  is  questioned  ;  men  think  God  lo  be  all , 
mercy,  and  no  justice ;  all  honey,  and  no  sting.    Now,  ihe  wicked 

riper  in  all  their  ways,  are  never  punished,  but  hve  and  diel 
peace;  whereas  ihe  godly  are  daily  aiSicied  and  reviled. 
Tben^fore,  because  ibis  attribute  suffers  a  total  eclipse  almost,! 
DOW,  there  must  come  a  day  wherein  it  must  shine  out  before  alii 
Ibe  world  in  the  glory  of  iL  (Kom.  ii.  5.) 

The  second  reason  is  from  the  glory  of  Christ.  He  was  ' 
Mcuaed,  arraigned,  condemned  by  men;  therefore  he  shall  be 
tbe  Judge  of  them.  (John  v.  27.)  For  thit  is  an  ordinary  piece 
God's  providence  towards  his  people  i  the  same  evil  he  casta 
^in  into  DOW,  he  exalts  ihem  into  tbe  contrary  good  in  his  time. 
,  Am  the  Lord  bath  a  purpose  lo  make  Joseph  ruler  over  alt 


40  THE   SmCBBE  CONVERT.  * 

Egypt,  but  first  he  maketh  him  a  slave,  God  Iiad  a  meai 
make  Christ  Judge  of  men,  thererore  first  be  sufiVrs  him  lo  be 

S  judged  of  men. 
y       Qaeit.  But  when  shall  Ihia  judgment  duy  be  ? 

^  Ani.  Though  ive  can  not  tell  the  day  and  hour  partieularly,  yet 
this  we  are  sure  of,  that  wlien  nil  the  elect  are  called,  for  wIiosb 
sake  ibe  world  BtaiiUs,  (Is.  i.  9,)  when  these  pillars  are  taken 
away^^^en  woe~t5~Ihe  world;  as  wht^n  Lot  was  taken  out  of 
Sodom,  then  Soilom  was  burnt.  Now.  it  ie  not  probable  that  this 
time  will  come  aa  yet ;  for  first  Antichrist  mn-tt  be  consumed,  aniJ 
tkot  only  the  scattered  visible  Jews,  but  the  whole  body  of  the 
Israelites,  must  first  be  called,  and  have  a  glorious  church  upon 
earth.  (Ezek.  xKxvii.)  This  glorious  ehorcb  Scripture  and  reason 
will  enforce,  which  when  it  ib  called  ehall  not  be  expired  as  soon 
as  it  is  born,  bat  shall  continue  many  a  year. 
^     Qutil.  But  how  shall  ibis  judgment  be  ? 

Am.  The  aposUe  describes  it.  (1  Thess.  iv.  16,  17.) 

1.  Christ  shall  break  out  of  the  third  heaven,  and  be  seen  in 
the  air,  before  any  dead  arise ;  and  this  shall  be  with  an  admira- 
ble shout,  as  when  a  king  cometb  to  triumph  among  bb  subjects, 
and  over  his  enemies. 

2.  Then  shall  the  voice  of  the  archangel  be  heard.  Now, 
this  archangel  is  Jesus  Christ  himself,  as  the  Scripture  expounds, 
being  in  the  clouds  of  heaven  ;  he  shall,  with  an  audible,  heaven- 
shaking  shoot,  say,  ''  Rise,  ^ou  dead,  and  come  to  judgment ! " 
even  as  he  called  to  Laz.arus,  "  Lazarus,  arise !  " 

8.  Then  the  trump  shall  blow ;  and  even  as  at  the  giving  of 

:^      the  law  (Ex.  x'lx.)  it  is  said  the  trumpet  i^ounded,  much  more 

'       louder  shall  it  now  sound,  when  be  comes  to  judge  men  that  hav« 

broken  the  law. 

4.  Then  shall  the  dead  arise.     The  bodies  of  them  that  hav8' 
,       died  in  the  Lord  shall  rise  firet ;  then  the  others  that  live  sba& 

(like  Enoch)  be  traiifilab:d.anilchMged.  (1  Cor.  xv.) 

5.  When  thus  the  judgTanff  justices  arc  upon  their  bench  a^ 
Christ's  right  hand,  on  their  thrones,  tbea  shall  the  guilty  pria* 
oners  be  brought  forth,  and  come  out  of  their  {graves,  like  tilthj 
toads,  BgRJnst  this  terrible  storm.  Then  shall  nil  the  wicked,  thw^ 
ever  were  or  ever  shall  be,  stand  quaking  before  this  gk^riotHt 
Judge,  with  the  same  bodies,  feet,  hajids,  to  receive  their  dooto- 

0,  consider  of  this  day,  tlidu  that  livest  in  thy  sins  now,  an^ 
\      yet  art  sale ;  there  is  a  day  coming  wherein  thou  nuiyest 

ahalt  be  judged.  ^^ 

1,  Consider  ib/io  shall  be  thy  Judge.  Why,  mercy,  pity,  goo4< 
aesB  itself,  even  Jesus   Christ,  that  many  lime*  held 


Tax   tntCEBK  COITTEBT.  41 

bowelfl  of  compassion  towftrd  thee.  A  eliild  of  God  m&y  mj, 
Tonder  is  my  brother,  friend,  husband ;  but  tliou  mayeat  say, 
Yonder  is  mine  enemy.  He  may  say  at  that  day,  Yonder  is  ho 
thu  shed  his  blood  to  fiave  me ;  thou  mayest  say.  Yonder  he 
eoraes  whoK  heiirt  I  have  pierced  with  my  stn^,  whose  blood  I 
bsve  despised.  Tliey  may  gay,  "  0.  come,  Lord  Jesus,  and  cover 
me  under  ihy  wingd."  But  thou  shnlt  then  cry  out,  "  O  rocks, 
fall  upon  me,  and  hide  me  from  the  face  of  the  Larab." 

2.  Consider  the  manner  of  hia  coming,  (i  Thess.  i.  7.) 
■hall  come  in  fluraing  fire  —  the  heavens  shall  be  on  a  flami 
the  elements  shall  melt  like  scalding  lead  upon  ihee.  When  a 
house  is  on  fire  at  midnight  in  a  town,  irhat  a  fearful  cry  is 
there  made  !  When  all  the  world  shall  cry,  Fire  I  fire  !  and  ran 
op  and  down  for  shelter  lo  hide  themselves,  but  can  not  find  it, 
bat  tay,  O,  now  the  gloomy  day  of  blood  and  fire  is  come ; 
here's  for  my  pride,  here's  for  my  OBlhs,  and  the  wages  for  my 
drunkenness,  security,  and  neglect  of  duties. 

3.  lu  regard  of  the  heavy  Accusations  that  shall  come  against 
the«  at  thai  day.  There  is  never  a  wicked  man  almost  in  ihi 
world,  as  fair  a  face  as  he  carries,  but  he  haih,  at  some  time  o 
other,  committed  some  such  secret  villikiny,  that  he  would  be  > 
ready  to  hang  himself  for  shSffie^iT "others  did  know  of  it;,aa 
•ecret  whoredom,  self- pollution,  speculative  wantonness,  men 
with  men,  women  with  women,  aa  the  apostle  speaks.  (Bom.  i.) 
At  this  day  all  the  world  shall  see  and  hear  these  privy  pranks, 
then  the  books  shall  be  opened.  Men  will  not  ta£eup  aToul 
business,  nor  end  it  in  private ;  therefore  there  shall  be  a  day  of 
public  hearing  ;  things  shall  not  be  suddenly  shuffied  up,  as  ear- 
«al  tbougtkts  imagine,  viz.,  that  at  this  day.  first  Christ  shall 
nise  the  dead,  and  then  the  separation  shall  be  made,  and  then 
the  sentence  passed,  and  then  suddenly  the  judgment  day  is  done. 
No.  no;  it  mast  luke  up  some  large  quantity  of  time,  that  all  the 
world  may  see  the  secret  sins  of  wicked  men  in  the  world  ;  and 
therefore  it  may  be  made  evident  from  all  Scripture  and  reason, 
that  this  day  of  Christ's  kingly  office  in  judging  the  world  will 
toil  happily  longer  than  his  private  administration  now  (wherein 
be  ii  len  glorious)  in  governing  the  world.     Tremble,  thou  time 

jBTjei" ;  tremble,  ihou  hypocrite ;  tremble,  thou  that  livest  in  any 
•ecret  sin  under  the  al|.«eeing  eye  of  this  Judge ;  thine  own  con- 
•cience  indeed  shall  be  a  sufficient  witness  against  thee,  to  dis* 
Govur  all  thy  sins  al  thy  particular  judgment ;  but  sll  the  world 
■hall  openly  see  thine  hidden,  close  counei  of  darkneu,  to  thiii« 
#Terlaiting  shame  at  thii  day. 

i.  In  ngfid  of  th«  f«vful  •saUnc*  that  tb«n  shall  b«  poMod 


i 


48  THE   SINCERE   CONVERT. 

,  upon  thee  :  "  Depart,  thou  i^ursed  creoliire,  into  everlasling  fir^ 
prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  aogele."  Thou  shall  then  ctj 
out,  '■  O,  merry.  Lord  !  O,  a  lillie  mercj  ! "  ^  No,"  will  the 
Lord  Jeaiia  say,  "I  did  indeed  once  offer  il  you,  but  you  refused; 
therefore  depart."  Then  thou  ehalt  plend  Sfcain,  "  Lord,  it  I 
must  depart,  yet  blew  me  before  I  go."  "  No,  no  ;  depart,  thou 
cursed,"  "  0,  hat,  Lord,  if  I  must  depart  cursed,  lei  me  go  into 
some  good  place."  "No;  depart,  ihoucureed,  into  hell  fire,"  "O 
Lord,  that's  a  torment  I  can  not  hear ;  but  if  it  moat  be  so.  Lord, 
let  me  come  out  again  quickly."  ''  No ;  depart,  thou  cursed, 
into  everlasting  fire."  "O  Lord,  if  this  be  thy  pleosure,  that 
here  I  must  abide,  let  me  have  good  company  with  me."  "  No  ; 
depart,  thou  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil 
and  hie  angels."  This  shall  be  thy  sentence ;  the  hearing  of 
which  may  make  the  rock^  to  rent ;  so  that,  go  on  in  thy  sin  and 
prosper,  despise  and  acolf  at  God's  ministers  and  prosper,  abhor 
the  power  and  practice  of  religion,  as  a  too  precise  course,  and 
I  prosper ;  yet  know  it.  there  will  a  day  come  when  thou  shalt  meet 
'  I  with  a  dreadful  Judge,  a  doleful  sentence.  Non  is  thy  day  of 
J  sinning  ;  but  God  will  have  shortly  hia  day  of  condemning. 

5.  When  the  judgment  day  is  done,  then  the  fearful  wrath  of 
Gtiil  shall  be  poured  out.  and  piled  upon  their  bodies  and  souls, 
and  the  breath  of  the  liord,  like  a  stream  of  brimstone,  shall 
kindle  it,  and  here  thou  shalt  lie  burning,  and  none  shall  ever 
quench  it.  This  is  the  execution  of  a  sinner  after  Judgment. 
(Rev.  xxi.  8.) 
Now,  this  wrath  of  God  consists  in  these  things  :  — 
1.  Thy  soul  sball  he  banished  from  the  face  and  blessed  sweet 
presence  of  God  and  Christ,  and  thou  shall  never  see  the  face 
of  God  more.  It  is  said  (Acta  xx.)  that  "they  wept  sore,  bo- 
cause  they  sliould  see  Paul's  face  no  more."  0.  thou  shalt 
never  see  the  fnoc  of  God,  Christ,  yninl?,  and  angels  more.  0, 
heavy  doom,  lo  famish  and  pine  away  forever  without  one  bit 
of  bread  to  comfort  thee,  one  smile  of  God  to  refresh  ibee! 
Hen  that  have  their  sores  running  upon  them  must  be  shut  up 
from  the  presence  of  men  sound  and  whole.  O,  thy  sins,  like 
plague  sores,  run  on  thee ;  therefore  thou  must  be  shut  out  like  a 
dog  from  the  presence  of  God  and  all  his  people.  (2  Thess.  i.  9.) 
J  2.  God  shall  si^t  him-elf  like  a  consuming  infinite  fire  against 
V  thee, and  tread  ihee  under  his  feel,  who  hasi  by  sin  trod  bim  and 
his  glory  undtfr  foot  all  ihy  life.  A  man  may  devise  esquisils 
torments  for  another,  and  great  power  may  make  a  little  stirk  to  ' 
hiy  on.  heavy  strokes  ;  hut  greal  power  stirred  up  to  strike  from 
great  fury  and  wrath  makes  th«  itroke  deadly.     I  tell  thee,  all 


(Rom.     / 


THE    SINCEHE   COSVERT. 

the  wiadom  of  God  bIibII  ihun  be  set  against  tliee  to  devise  tor-  ■ 
menis  for  thee.  (Micab  ii.  4.)     There  was  never  such  wrath  felt 
or  conceived  as  the  Lord  hath  devised  against  iheo  that  lirest 
and  dieat  in  thy  natural  estate;  hence  it  is  called  "wrath  to  come."    I 
(1  Thess.  i.  ult.)     The  torment  which  wisdom  shall  devise  the 
almighty  power  of  God  shall  inflict  upon  ihee,  so  as  there  vaa 
never  such  power  eoen  in  making  the  world  as  in  holding  a  poor 
trreature  under  tins  wrath,  that  holds  up  the  soul  in  being  with 
one  hand,  and  beats  it  with  the  other,  ever  burning  like  hre 
against  a  creature,  and  jet  that  creature  never  burnt  up.  (Itom. 
ii.  22.)     Thinknoljhw  cruelty  :  it  is  justjce.     What  cares  C    ' 
for  a  vile  wretch,  whom" noiBifig' can  malte  good  while  it  lives? 
If  we  have  been  long  in  hewing  a  block,  and  we  can  make  no  ! 
meet  vessel  of  it.  put  it  to  no  good  use  for  ourselves,  we  cast  it  '  ^^ 
inln  the  fire.     God  heweth  thee  by  sermons,  sickness,  losses,  au^i^ 
crosses,  sudden  death,  mercies,  and  miseries ;  yet  nothing  makes 
thee   better.     What   should    God    do   with    ihec    but  cast   thee 
hence?     O,  consider  of  this  wrath  before  you  feel  it,     I'haif^^ 
rather  have  all  the  worhl  burning  about  my  ears  than  to  have 
one   bloating   frown   from   the   blessed    fuce  of  an   intinite  and 
dreadful  God.     Thou  canst  not  endure  the  torments  of  a  little 
kitchen  flre  on  the  tip  of  thy  finger,  not  one  half  hour  together. 
How  wilt  thou  bear  the  fury  of  this  infinite,  endless,  consuming 
fire  in  body  and  soul  throughout  all  eternity  ? 

3.  The  never-dying  worm  of  a  guilty  conscigtipe  shall  torment 
ihee,  as  if  thou  hadst  swallowed  down  a  living  poisonful  snakci  \ 
which  shall  lie  gnawing  and  biting  thine  heart  for  sin  pa^t,  day 
Knd  night.  And  this  worm  shall  torment  by  showing  the  cause 
of  thy  misery  ;  that  isrthaf  thou  didst  never  care  lor  Him  that 
would  have  saved  ihee;  by  showing  thee  also  tliy  sins  against 
the  law,  by  showing  thee  thy  sloth,  whereby  thy  happiness  ia 
lost.  Then  slmll  thy  conscience  gnaw  to  think.  8o  many  nighii 
I  went  to  bed  without  prayer,  and  so  many  days  and  hours  I 
spent  in  feasting  and  foolish  sporting.  O,  if  I  had  spent  half 
timt  time,  now  misspent,  in  praying,  in  mourning,  in  meditation, 
yonder  in  heaven  had  1  been.  By  showing  thee  also  the  mean* 
that  tliou  onee  hail^t  to  avoid  MiIm  nii^ry.  Such  a  minister  . 
I  heard  once,  that  told  me  of  my  particular  sins,  as  if  be  had 
been  told  of  me  ;  such  a.  friend  persuaded  me  once  to  turn  over 
a  new  leaf;  I  remember  so  many  knocks  God  gave  at  thin  iron 
heart  of  mine,  so  many  mercies  the  l»rd  sent ;  but,  O.  no 
tneaua  could  prevail  with  me.  Lastly,  by  showing  thee  how 
easily  thou  mightest  have  avoided  all  these  niitieries.  O,  on 
I  wu  almoat  persuaded  to  be  a  Christian ;  bat  I  suffecoi  v 


44  Tire  EiNCF.Bi:  convert. 

heart  to  grow  dead,  and  fell  to  loose  coiupnny,  and  »o  lost  alL 
Tlie  Lord  Jeans  cune  unto  my  door  and  knocked  ;  and,  if  I  had 
done  that  for  Christ  wliii'h  I  did  for  the  devil  many  a  lime  lo 
open  at  bis  knookn,  I  bad  been  saved.  A  ihousaod  such  bites 
will  this  worm  give  at  thine  heart,  which  shall  make  thee  cry 
out,  O,  time,  time  !  0,  sermons  sermons !  0,  niy  hopes  aDd 
my  helps  are  now  lost  that  once  I  had  to  save  my  lost  soul ! 

i.  Thou  shall  take  up  thy  *"ric'"F  ^"'PYf  ^"^  if,"'}"!  and 
they  shall  be  thy  companions,  llim  thou  hast  served  here,  with 
him  must  lliou  dwell  there.  It  scares  men  out  of  ihcir  wits 
almost  to  sec  tlie  devil,  as  ihey  think,  when  ibey  be  alone  ;  but 
what  horror  shall  fill  thy  soul  when  thou  shalt  be  banished  from 
angels'  society,  and  come  into  the  fellowship  of  devils  forever ! 

A  5.  Thou  shall  be  61led  with  final  despair.  If  a  man  be  griev- 
ously sieb,  it  comforts  him  to  think  it  will  not  last  long.  But  if 
*  the  physician  tell  him  he  must  live  all  his  lifethne  in  this  ex- 
tremity, he  thinks  the  poorest  beggar  in  a  better  estate  thaa 
bimseir.  0,  to  think,  when  thou  hast  been  millions  of  years  in 
thy  sorrows,  then  thou  art  no  nearer  thy  end  of  bearing  ihy 
misery  than  at  the  first  coming  in !  O,  I  might  once  have  had 
mercy  and  Christ,  but  no  hope  now  ever  to  have  one  glimpse  of 
his  face,  or  one  good  look  from  liim  any  more. 
^  C.  Thou  shatt  vomit  out  blasphemous  oaths  and  curses  in  the 
face  of  God  the  Father  forever,  and  curse  God  that  never 
elected  thee,  and  curse  the  Lord  Jesus  that  never  shed  one  drop 
of  blood  to  redeem  thee,  and  curse  God  the  Holy  Ghost  that 
passed  by  thee  and  never  called  thee.  (Kev.  xvi.  9.)  And  here 
thou  shall  lie,  and  weep,  and  gnaah  Ihy  teeth  in  spile  against 
God  and  thyself,  and  roar,  and  Blamp,  and  grow  mad.  ihat  there 
tjuut  must  lie  under  the  curse  of  God  forever.  Thus,  I  say, 
[thou  shalt  lie  blaspheming,  with  God's  wrath  hke  a  pile  of  lire 
on  thy  soul  burning,  and  floods,  nay,  seas,  nay,  more,  seas  of 
tears,  (for  thou  shatt  forever  lie  Keeping,)  shall  never  quench  IL 
And  here,  which  way  soever  iliou  lookest,  thou  shnlt  see  matter 
of  everlasting  grief.  Look  up  to  heaven,  and  there  ihon  shalt 
see  (O!)  that  God  is  forever  gone.  Look  about  thee,  thou  shalt 
see  devils  quaking,  cursing  God,  and  thousands,  nay,  millions,  of 
sinful,  damned  creatures  crying  and  roaring  out  with  doleful 
■hriekings,  O,  the  day  that  ever  I  was  bom !  Look  within 
thee  ;  there  is  a  guilty  conscience  gnawing.  Look  to  lime  past ; 
0,  those  giddeu  days  of  grace  and  sweet  seasons  of  mercy  are 
quite  lost  and  gone  1  Look  to  time  to  oome ;  there  thou  shalt 
behold  evils,  iroopa  and  ewarms  of  sorrows,  and  woes,  and 
r^iug  wavM,  and  billowi  of  wrath  come  rooriag  upoo  ihea. 


THE    SINCERE    CONVERT.  tf 

Look  to  time  present ;  O,  not  one  hour  or  moment  of  ease  or 
refrcsliing,  but  all  curses  meet  together,  and  feeding  upon  one 
poor  loHt  ioimorlal  bouI  that  never  con  be  recovfred  again  I  No 
God,  no  Christ,  no  Spirit  to  comfort  thee,  no  minister  to  preach  |, 
unto  thee,  no  friend  to  wipe  away  thj  continual  tear^  no  eun  to 
shine  upon  thee,  not  a  bit  of  bread,  not  one  drop  of  water  to 
cool  thy  tongue. 

TliJB  is  ibe  misery  of  every  natural  man.  Now,  do  not  thou 
sliift  it  from  thyself,  and  say,  God  is  merciful.  True,  but  it  is  'U 
to  rery  few,  as  shall  be  proved.  It  is  a  thousand  to  one  if  ever 
thoii  be  one  of  that  Bmall  number  whom  God  bath  picked  out  to 
escape  this  wrath  lo  come.  If  thou  dost  not  get  the  Lord  Jesua 
to  bear  (his  wrath,  farewell  God,  Christ,  and  God's  mercy  tbi^ 
ever.  If  Chriat  bad  shed  seas  of  blood,  set  thine  heart  at  rest; 
there  is  not  one  drop  of  it  for  thee,  until  thou  comest  to  see,  and 
fie«l,  and  groan  under  this  miserable  estate.  1  tell  thee,  Christ 
is  »o  for  from  saving  thee,  that  he  is  thine  enemy.  If  Christ 
were  here,  and  should  say,  Here  is  roy  blood  for  thee,  if  ihou  wilt 
but  lie  down  and  mourn  under  tJie  burden  of  thj  misery,  and  yet 
for  all  his  speeches,  thj  dry  eyes  weep  not,  thy  stout  heart  yields 
not,  thy  hard  heart  mourns  not,  as  to  say,  O,  I  am  a  sinful,  lost, 
condemned,  cursed,  dead  creature  ;  what  shall  I  do  ?  dost  not 
ibinlc  but  he  would  turn  away  his  face  fn»a  thee,  and  say,  0, 
thou  stony,  hard-hearted  crealure,woulde3t  thou  have  me  save  tbe« 
from  thy  misery,  and  yet  thou  wilt  not  groan,  sigh,  and  mourn 
for  deliverance  to  me,  out  of  thy  misery  ?  If  thou  liliest  thine 
e^jlaie  so  well,  and  prizest  me  so  little,  perish  ia  thy  misery 

O,  labor  \o  be  Immhled  day  and  night  under  this  tliy  woful 
estate.  T''""  irf  ff^y-r*  A.Um'j  gricvmiii  sin  :  will  this  break 
thitie  heart  ?  No.~TFimi  3Tt  deafl  In  pin,  luij  fop-full  of  all  sin  ; 
will  this  hrt?ali  Ihine  heart?  No.  Whatsuevcr  thou  doest,  bast 
done,  shalt  do,  remaining  in  this  eslnte,  is  sin  :  will  this  break 
thine  heart?  No.  God  is  thino  enemy,  and  thou  hast  lost  him  : 
will  this  break  thine  heart?  No.  Thou  art  condemned  to  die 
eternally ;  &iian  is  Ihy  jailer ;  ttiou  art  boutid  hand  and  foot  'm 
the  bolts  of  thy  sius,  and  cost  into  niter  darkness,  and  ready 
every  utomont  to  drop  into  hell :  will  this  break  thine  heart  ?  No- 
Thou  must  die,  and  after  that  appear  before  ihe  Lord  lo  judgment, 
apd  then  bear  Gud's  everlasting,  iusupporinbic  wrath,  which  rend* 
ik*  rocks,  and  burns  down  to  the  boiiom  of  hell.  Will  ibis  break 
thine  hard  heart,  man?  No,  Then  farewell  Christ  forever 
•^fieverlook  to  see  a  Clirisi,  until  thou  dost  come  Lu  IW  lh>  mi 
ooi  oTChiiSC'XalKir  therefore  fur  this,  and  tlie  Lord  will  Kveal 


i 

I 


THK    SINCERE   CONVERT. 


I 


the  brazen  serpent,  whcD  tbou  art  in  thine  own  sense  and  feeling, 
Btung  to  demh  nith  the  fiery  aerpenUi. 

So  I  coue  to  open  tbe  fourth  principal  point. 


CHAPTER    IV. 


"  In  whom  we  liavc  redemption  through  his  blood,"  (£pb.  L 
7,)  which  plainly  demonstrates  ihat 

A  "  JesuB  Christ  is  the  only  meAns  of  man's  redemption  and 
deliverance  out  of  hb  bondage  and  miserable  estate." 

And  this  is  the  doctrine  I  shall  now  insist  upon. 

When  the  Israelites  were  in  bondage  and  misery,  he  sends 
Moses  to  deliver  ihem.  When  they  were  in  Babylon,  he  stirred 
up  Cyrus  to  open  the  prison  galea  to  them ;  but  when  all  man- 
kind is  under  sjirituaJ  misery,  he  sends  the  Lord  Jesus,  God  and 
man,  toredeein  him.  (Acts  iv.  12.) 

Queilion.   How  doth  Christ  redeem  men  out  of  this  misery? 

Anmctr.  By  payineaprice  forjhem.  (1  Cor.  vi.  ult)  God's 
mercy  will  be  mBnflested  in  saving  some,  and  his  justice  must  be 
satisfied  by  having  satisfaction  or  price  made  and  paid  for  man'i 
sin.     Hence  Christ  satisfielh  God's  justice,  — 

FirsL  By  standing  in  the  room  of  all  them  whom  mercf 
decreeth  to  save.  A  surely  standeth  in  the  room  of  a  debtor. 
(Heb.  rii.  22.)  As  tbe  first  Adam  stood  in  the  room  of  all 
mankind  fallen,  so  Christ  siandetl)  in  the  room  of  all  men  rising, 
or  lo  be  reiitored  again. 

Secondly.  By  taking  from  them  in  whose  room  be  stood  the 
eternal  guilt  of  all  their  sins,  and  by  assuming  ihe  guilt  of  all 
those  sins  udIo  himself.  (2  Cor.  v.  22.)  Hence  Luther  said 
Christ  waa  the  greatest  sinner  by  imputation.. 

Thirdly.    By  bearing  tlie  curse   and  wfSOi  of  God  kindled 

against  sin.     God  is  holy,  and  when  he  seeih  sin  sticking  only 

I  by  imputation  to  his  own  Son,  he  will  not  spare  him,  but  bia 

I  wrath  and  curse  must  he  bear.  (Gal.  iii.  13.)     Christ  drinks  up 

J  the  cup  of  all  the  elect  at  one  draught,  which  they  should  have 

,been  sipping  and  drinking,  and  tormented  with,  millions  of  years. 

J      Fourthly.     By  bringing  into    the  presence  of  God   perfect 
righteousness,  (Rom.  v.  21  ;)  for  this  also  God's  justice  required 
(    perfection,  conftrmSly  lo  the  law,  as  well  aa  (peri'ect  satisfactioa) 
tufferuig  for  the  wrong  otTered  to  tbe  Lawgiver.     Justice  thiu 


I 


J 


THE    BIKCERE    COHVEKT.  47 

I  xvquiring  (hose  four  things,  ChrUt  suliaBes  justice  by  performing 
hein,  and  so  pays  the  price. 

1.  Christ  is  a  Redeemer  by  strong  hanil.  The  first  redemption 
Vj  price  IB  finished  in  Christ's  penutn.  at  his  resurrection ;  tlie 
Mcond  is  begun  by  the  Spirit  in  uutn's  vocation,  and  ended  at  the 
day  of  Judgment  i  aa  money  id  first  paid  for  a  captive  in  Turkey, 
and  then  beesuae  he  can  not  come  to  bis  own  priuce  himself,  he 
u  fetched  away  by  strong  hand. 

Here'  is  encouragement  to  the  vilest  sinner,  and  comfort  to  the 
Hlf-9uccorles9  and  lost  •sinner,  who  have  spent  atl  their  money, 
^ir  lime,  and  endeavors  upon  tho:K  duties  and  strivings  thnt 
have  been  but  poor  physicians  to  them.  0,  look  up  here  to  the 
Xiord  Jesns,  who  can  do  that  cure  for  thee  in  a  moment  which  all 
creatures  can  not  do  in  many  years.  What  bolts,  what  strong 
fctiers,  what  unruly  lusts,  temptations,  and   miseries   art  thou 

'  locked  into?  Behold,  the  Deliverer  is  come  out  of  Sion,  having 
Mtiafled  justice,  and  paid  a  price  lo  ransom  poor  captives,  (Luke 
It.  is  ;)  with  the  keys  of  heaven,  bell,  and  thy  uuruty  heart  in 
hU  hand,  to  fetch  thee  out  with  great  mercy  and  strong  hand. 

'  Who  knows  but  thou  poor  prisoner  of  hell,  thou  poor  captive  of 
the  devil,  thou  [loor  shackled  sinner,  mayest  be  cue  whom  be  is 
come  for  ?  0,  look  up  lo  him,  sigh  to  heaven  for  deliverance 
from  biin,  and  be  glad  and  rejoice  at  his  coming  1 

This  strike*  terror  lo  them,  that  though  there  is  a  means  of 
deliverance,  yet  they  lie  in  iheir  misery,  never  groan,  never  sigh 
to  the  Lord  Jesus  for  deliverance ;  nay,  that  rejoice  in  their  bond- 
age, and  dance  to  hell  in  ihcir  boltd  ;  nay,ihAt  are  weary  of  deliver- 
ance :  that  ail  in  the  stocks  when  iJiey  are  al  prayers ;  that  oamm 
out  of  the  church,  when  the  tedious  sermon  runs  somewhat  beyond 
the  hour,  like  prisoners  out  of  a  jail,  that  despise  the  Lord  Jesus, 
when  he  offers  to  open  the  doora,  and  so  let  tbem  out  of  that 
mi(ierahli'  ealale.  0,  poor  creatures !  is  there  a  means  of  deliver- 
Micu,  and  dost  thou  neglect,  nay,  despise  it  ?  Know  it,  that  thia 
will  cut  thine  heart  one  day,  when  thou  art  hanging  in  ihy  gibbeU 
in  bell,  to  see  others  standing  at  God's  right  band,  redeemed  by 
Cbri«t;  ibou  mightest  have  bad  share  in  their  honor;  for  there 
was  a  Deliverer  come  to  save  thee,  but  thou  wouldest  have  none 
of  him.  O,  thou  wilt  lie  yelling  in  those  everlasting  burnings, 
and  tear  thy  hair,  and  curse  thyself:  From  hence  might  I  have 
heen  delivrrcd,  but  I  would  not.  Hath  Christ  delivered  thee 
from  hell,  and  hath  he  not  delivered  thee  from  thine  alehouse  ? 
I  iatii  Chri*l  delivered  thee  from  Satan's  society,  when  he  hatli  not 
delivered  thee  from  thy  Ioimh  company  yet  ?  Hath  Christ  delivered 
tJie«  from  burning,  when  thy  fagots,  thy  sins,  grow  in  thee  ?  la 
Chritt'a  blood  thine,  that  makest    no    more  account  of   it,  nor 


I 


THE   BtSCEBH   CONVERT. 


.  feelest  no  more  virtu?  from  it,  than  in  the  blood  of  a  chii^ken? 
Art  thou  redeemed  ?     Dost  ihou  hope  bj  Christ  to  be  saved,  that 

-  didst  never  ecc,  nor  feel,  nor  sigh  under  thy  bondage  ?  0,  the 
devils  will  keep  holiday  (m  it  were)  in  hell,  in  respect  of  thee, 
who  shflJl  mourn  under  God's  wrath,  and  lament.  O,  there  was 
a  meana  to  deliver  ma  out  of  il,  but  thou  shall  mourn  forever  for 
tbj  misery.  And  thie  will  be  a  bodkin  at  thine  heart  one  day, 
to  think  there  was  a  Deliverer,  but  I,  wretch,  would  none  of  him. 
Here,  likewise,  is  matter  of  reproof  to  such  as  seek  to  come  out 
of  tbi^I  misery  from  and  by  lhem.^e!vea.  If  they  be  ignorani, 
they  hope  to  be  ^iivcU  by  their  good  meaning  and  prayers.  If 
civil,  by  paying  all  they  owe,  and  doing  as  Ibey  would  be  done 
by,  and  by  doing  nobody  any  harm.  If  they  he  troubled  about 
their  estates,  then  they  lick  themselves  whole  by  their  monmiitg, 
repenting,  and  reforming.  0,  poor  stubble,  canst  tliou  stand 
before  this  consuming  lire  without  sin?  Canst  ihou  make  thy- 
self a  Christ  for  thyself  ?    Canst  thou  bear  and  come  from  under 

-  an  infinite  wrath  ?  Canst  Ihofl  bring  in  perfect  righteousness  into 
the  presence  of  God  ?  This  Clmst  must  do.  else  he  could  not 
eaiisfy  and  redeem.  And  if  thou  canst  not  do  thus,  and  liost  no 
Christ,  desire  and  pray  that  heaven  and  earth  shake  till  thod 
hast  worn  thy  tongue  to  the  etumpe ;  endeavor  os  much  as  thou 
canst,  and  others  commend  thee  fur  a  diligent  Christian  ;  mourn 
in  some  wilderness  till  doomsday ;  dig  thy  grave  there  with  ihy 
nails ;  weep  buckets  full  of  hourly  teara,  till  thou  canst  weep  no 
more;  fast  and  pray  till  thy  skin  nod  bones  cleave  togetber; 
promise  and  purpose  with  full  resolution  to  be  better;  nay, 
reform  thy  bead,  heart,  life,  and  tongue,  and  some,  nay,  all  sius  ; 
live  like  an  angel ;  shine  like  a  sun  ;  walk  up  and  down  the  world 
like  a  distressed  pilgrim  going  to  another  country,  so  that  all 
Christians  commend  and  admire  thee  ;  die  ten  thousand  deaths;  . 
lie  at  the  fireback  in  hell  so  many  millions  of  years  as  there  be 
piles  of  grass  on  the  earth,  or  sitnds  upon  the  sea  shore,  or  stars 
in  heaven,  or  moles  in  the  sun ;  I  tell  lh<^e,  not  one  spark  of 
God's  wrath  against  thy  sin  shall  be,  can  be,  qiiencbed  by  all 
these  duties,  nor  by  any  of  these  sorrows,  or  tears  )  for  these  arc 
not  the  bk)od  of  Christ.  Nay,  if  all  the  angels  and  saints  in 
heaven  and  earth  should  pray  for  thee,  these  can  not  duliver  tliec, 
for  they  are  not  the  blood  of  ChrisL  Nay,  God,  as  a  Creator, 
having  mode  a  law,  will  nut  forgive  one  sin  without  the  blood  of 
Christ;  nay,  Christ's  blood  will  not  do  il  neither,  il  thou  dost 
join  never  so  little  that  thou  hast  or  dost  unio  Jesus  Christ,  and 
makesl  thyself  or  any  of  thy  duties  copartners  with  Christ  in 
thai  great  work  of  saving  thee.  Cry  out,  therefore,  as  that 
blessed  martyr  did,  None  but  Christ,  jione  but  Christ. 


TBB   SINCERE    COMVBRT.  49 

Take  heed  of  neglecling  or  rejeclini^  so  great  salvation  by- 


Jesus  Chrii 


Take  heed  of  spilling  this  potio 


Ihut 


rare  (bee. 

But  thou  wilt  snj,  This  means  of  redemption  is  onlj  appointed 
for  some :  it  is  not  intended  fur  all,  therefore  not  fur  me ;  tlierc' 
fore  bow  can  I  rvject  Christ  ? 

It  is  true,  Christ  apent_nijtjiia  brenlh  to  ^r^ti  fojc_aU ;  (John 
»»ii.  9.)  '•  I  pray  for  them ;  I  pray  not'  tor  iTie  world,  hut  for  them 
which  thou  hast  given  me,  for  they  are  thine ;"  miieh  less  hia 
blood  for  all ;  therefore  he  was  never  intended  as  a  Redeemer 
«f  all ;  but  that  be  is  not  intended  as  a  Deliverer  of  thee,  how 
•  dWh  this  follow?     How  dost  thou  know  this? 

But  secondly,  I  say,  though  Christ  be  not  intended  for  all, 
yet  he  ia  offered   onto  all,   a«d  therefore  uolo  iliee;  and  tbo 

The  universal  offer  of  Christ  ariseth  not  from  Christ's  priestly 
tf  ce  immediately,  but  from  his  kindly  otlicc.  whereby  the  Father 
having  given  him  all  power  and  dominion  in  heaven  and  earth, 
he  hereupon  commands  all  men  to  stoop  unto  him,  and  likewise 
'  'ds  all  his  disciple*,  and  all  their  successor*,  to  go  and  preach 

e  gospel  to  every  creature  under  heaven.    (Matt,  xxviii.  18, 19.} 

or  Christ  doth  not  immediately  offer  himself  to  all  men  as  a  ' 
Savbor,  whereby  they  may  be  encouraged  to  serve  him  as  a 
king ;  but  first  as  a  king  commanding  them  to  cnst  away  their 
Weapons,  and  stoop  unto  his  scepter,  and  depend  upon  his  free 
Biercy,  acknowledging,  if  ever  he  save  me,  I  will  bless  him:  if 
he  damn  me,  his  name  is  righteous  in  so  dealing  with  me.  \^ 

But  that  I  may  fasten  this  exhortation,  I  will  show  these  foor 

I.  The  Lord  JesQS  is  offered  to  every  particular  j)erson  ; 
,  which  I  shall  show  thus :  What  hast  thou  to  say  against  it,  that 
thou  dost  doubl  of  it?     It  may  be  thou  wilt  plead.  — 

O,  1  am  so  ignorant  of  myself,  God,  Christ,  or  his  will,  that 
purely  the  Lord  offers  no  Christ  to  me. 

Yes,  but  he  doth,  though  ihou  best  in  utter  darkness.  Our 
. Messed  Sariour  glorified  his  Father  for  revealing  the  mystery  of 
Ibe  gMpel  to  simple  men,  neglecting  those  that  carried  the  chief 
Kpntaiion  of  wisdom  in  the  world.  The  parts  of  none  are  to 
;  low  oa  that  they  are  bencAth  the  gracious  regard  of  Christ.  God 
heeloweU)  the  best  fruits  of  his  love  upon  mean  and  weak  per- 
sons here,  that  he  migltt  confound  the  pride  of  flesh  the  more. 
Where  it  pleascth  him  to  make  bis  choiw.-.  and  to  exalt  his  mer- 
cy, he  poBseih  by  no  degree  of  wit,  though  never  so  uncnpable. 

But  tliou  wilt  say,  1  am  nn  mviaj  to  God,  and  have  a  heart 

TOl,.  L 


THE   SINCERE   CONVERT. 


SO  stubborn  and  loih  to  yield,  I  have  vexed  him  to  the  verj 
heart  by  ray  transgressions. 

Yet  he  beiieecheth  ihee  to  be  reconciled.  Put  case,  thou  hast 
been  a  sinner,  and  rebellions  against  God  ;  yet  bo  long  as  thou 
ut  not  found  amongst  malicious  opposerii,  and  underminers  of 
his  truth,  never  give  way  to  despairing  thoughts;  thou  hast  a 


[ 


JeSpised  the  n 


8  of  reconciliation,  and  rejected 


);  "thou  hast  plnjed  the  harlot  with 
noBoy  lovers ;  yet  lum  again  to  me,  saiih  the  Lord."  (Jer.  iii.  1.) 
Cast  thyself  into  the  arms  of  Christ,  aud  if  ihou  perish,  perish 
there ;  if  thou  dost  not,  ihou  art  sure  to  perish.  If  merry  be  to 
be  had  any  where,  it  is  by  seeking  to  Christ,  not  by  turning  from 
him.  Herein  appears  Christ's  love  to  thee,  that  he  hath  given 
thee  a  heart  in  some  defp^p  "fipt'l'lp ;  he  might  have  given  thee 
up  to  bftrdness,  security,  and  profaneness  —  of  all  spiritual  judg- 
ments the  grcRtesl.  But  he  that  died  for  his  enemies  will  in  no 
wise  refuse  those  the  desire  of  whose  soul  is  toward  him. 
When  the  prodigal  set  himself  to  return  to  his  father,  his  father 
stays  not  for  him,  but  meets  him  in  the  way.  If  our  sins  dis- 
please us,  they  shall  never  hurt  us ;  but  we  sliall  be  esteemed  of 
God  to  be  that  which  we  desire  and  labor  to  be.   (Ps.  cxlv.  19.) 

But  can  the  Lord  offer  Christ  to  me,  so  poor,  that  have  no 
strength,  no  fnith,  no  grace,  nor  sense  of  mj  poverty  ? 

Yes,  even  to  thee;  why  should  we  except  ourselves,  when 
Christ  doth  not  except  us  ?  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are 
weary  and  heavy  laden."  We  are  therefore  poor,  because  we 
know  not  our  riches.  We  can  never  be  in  such  a  condition 
wherein  there  will  bo  just  cause  of  utter  despair.  He  that  sits 
in  darkness,  and  seeth  no  light,  no  light  of  ,comfort,  no  light  of 
God's  countenance,  yet  let  him  trust  in  the  name  of  the  Lord. 
Weaknesses  do  not  debiir  ua  from  mercy ;  nay,  they  incline  God 
Ike  more.  The  husband  is  bound  to  bear  with  the  wife,  as  being 
the  weaker  vessel;  and  shall  we  think  God  will  exempt  himself 
from  his  own  rule,  and  nut  bear  with  his  weak  spouse? 

But  is  this  offer  made  to  roe,  that  can  not  love,  prize,  nor  desire 
the  Lord  Jesus  ?    _ 

Yes;  to  ihee.  i  Christ  knows  how  to  pity  us  in  this  case.  We 
are  weak,  but  we^Rre  his.  A  father  looks  not  so  much  at  the 
blemishes  of  his  child  as  at  his  own  nnture  in  him  ;  so  Christ 
finds  matter  of  love  from  any  tiling  of  his  own  in  us.  A  Chris- 
tian's carriage  toward  Christ  may  in  many  things  be  very 
offensive,   and   cause   much    straiigeness ;   yet,  so   long  as   L9  ' 


THE  StMCXBE    CONVERT. 


■  TewlTe*  not  npon  any  knc 


n  evil,  Christ  will  t 


tod  he 


O,  but  I  have  fuUen  from  God  oft,  since  he  hath  eolightened 
mc-;-Htnd  doth  he  tender  Christ  to  me  ? 

rXhou  must  know  that  Christ  haih  married  erery  believing 
tOtA  to  himself,  and  that,  where  the  work  of  grace  ia  begun,  sin    1 
toses  strength  by  every  new  fall.      If  there  be  a  spring  of  Bin  in 
thee,  there  ia  a  spring  of  mercy  in  God,  and  a  fountain  daily 
opened  to  wash  thy  uncleannesa  in.     Adam  (indeed)  lost  all  by    I 
once  einniiig ;  hut  we  are  under  a  belter  covenant,  —  a.  covenant  1 
e£  ipercy.  —  and  are  encouragedbyjhe  Son  to  go  to  the  Father  | 
I  erery  day  for  the  sins  of  that^^Tj  ' 

L  If  I  was  willing  to  receive  CGriBCl  might  have  Christ  offered 
to  me  ;  but  will  the  Lord  offer  him  to  aueb  a  one  as  deaires  not 
to  have  Christ  ? 

^  Y^  ;  saith  our  Saviour,  "  I  would  have  gathered  you  as  the 
Hn  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings,  and  you  would 
boL"  We  must  know  a  creating  power  can  not  only  bring 
•omeibing  oni  of  nothing,  but  contrary  out  of  contrary ;  of  un- 
willing, God  can  make  us  a  willing  people.  There  is  a  promise 
id  pouring  dean  water  upon  us,  and  Christ  hat^L-t^ken  upon  him 
to  purge  his  spouse,  and  make  her  fit  for  MtiSelf.  ' 

What  bast  thou  now  to  plead  against  this  ^Iftnge  kindnega 
of  the  Lord   in   offering  Christ   to   thee?     Thou  wilt  say,  it 

0,  I  fear  time  is  past  I  O,  time  is  piast  I  I  might  onc«  have 
had  Chriit,  but  now  mine  heart  is  sealed  down  with  hardnoM, 
blindness,  unbelief.     0.  time  is  now  gone  I 

No;  not  so.  See  Isaiah  Ixv.  1-3:  "All  the  day  long  God 
Iwhleth  out  his  hands  to  a  backsliding  and  rebellious  people." 
Thy  day  of  grace,  thy  day  of  means,  thy  day  of  life,  thy  day  of 
God's  striving  with  tbee  and  stirring  of  thee,  still  lasts. 

It  if  God  be  so  willing  to  save,  and  so  prodigal  of  his  Christ, 
why  doth  he  not  give  me  Christ,  or  draw  me  to  Christ  ? 

I  answer.  What  command  dost  thou  look  for  lo  draw  thee  (o 
||  .Christ  but  this  word,  Ctrmt '  O,  come,  thou  poor,  forlorn,  lost, 
Mind,  cursed  nothing ;  I  will  eave  ihee ;  I  will  enrich  tbee ; 
I  will  forgive  thee ;  I  will  enlighten  thee ;  I  wilt  bless  thee  i  I 
will  be  all  things  unto  thee,  do  all  things  for  thee.  May  not 
Ibis  win  and  melt  the  heart  of  a  devil  ? 

II.  Upon  what  condition  may  Christ  be  had  F 

Make  an  exchange  of  what  thou  art  or  hast  with  Christ  for 
^Wfau  Christ  is  or  hath  ;  and  so  taking  him,  (like  ihe  wise  mer- 
it ibe  p«ul,)  ibou  slialt  have  salvation  witii  htm. 


52  THE   SINCERE   CONTERT. 

Now,  this  exchange  lieth  in  these  four  things  chiefly  :- 

Firal.  Give  away  thyself  lo  him,  head,  heiirt,  tongue,  body, 
Boul.  and  he  will  give  away  hiaigelf  unto  thee,  (Cant.  vi.  3 ;)  yea, 
he  will  stand  in  ihy  room  in  heaven,  that  thon  mayesl  triumph 
nod  Bay,  I  am  already  in  heaven,  gloriHed  in  faim  ;  I  see  Giod's 
blessed  face  ia  Christ ;  I  have  conquered  death,  hell,  and  ihe 
devil  in  him. 

Secondly.  Give  away  alj  thy  aina  to  Christ,  confess  them,  leave 
tfaem,  cast  them  upon  the  Lord  Jesus,  «o  B3  to  receive  power 
from  him  to  fOrsnke  thcro,  and  he  will  be  made  sin  for  thee  to 
take  them  away  from  thee.   (1  John  i.  9.) 

Thirdly.  Give  away  liiinp  [lienor,  y lp.naiirp|  pmfit,  Uff j  for  bim  j 
ke  will  give  away  his  crown  and  honor,  life  and  tdl,  to  ibee. 
(Luke  xviii.)  I^t  nothing  be  sweet  unto  thee  but  him,  and 
nothing  shall  be  sweet  unto  him  but  ihee. 

Fourthly.  Give  away  thy  r^s,  forsake  thine  own  riglileous- 
ness,  for  him  ;  he  will  give  away  all  his  robes  and  righleoDBness 
to  thee.  (Phil.  iii.  8,  St.)  Tfaousshalt  stand  as  glorious  in  the 
sight  of  God,  howsoever  thou  art"  a  poor  snake  in  thyself,  aa  an 
angel,  nay,  as  all  the  angels,  because  cIotbetPwKE^is  Son  Christ 
JeBuB  hia  righteousness. 

Now,  tell  me,  will  yon  have  Christ?  Me  is  offered  lo  yon. 
Tea,  you  will  all  say ;  yea,  witb  all  mine  heart.  But  will  you 
havs  him  upon  these  terms,  upon  thei^e  four  conditions  ? 

Now,  beeuuse  men  will  flatter  themselves,  and  say.  Yes, — 
1     iil.  I  will  show  you  four  sorts  of  people  that  reject  Christ 
Uhus  offered. 

First  The  slighting  unbeliever,  that,  when  he  hears  of  an 
offer  of  Christ,  and  should  wonder  at  the  love  of  the  Lord  in 
doing  this,  he  makes  nothing  of  It,  but  goes  from  the  church,  and 
says,  We  must  give  ministers  ihe  wall  in  the  pulpit,  and,  poor 
men,  they  must  have  somewhat  to  say  and  preach  for  their 
living  i  there  was  a  good  plain  sermon  to-day ;  the  man  seems 
to  mean  well,  but  1  think  he  be  no  great  scholar;  and  so  makes 
no  more  of  the  offer  of  Christ  than  of  the  offer  of  a  straw  at 
their  feet.  If  a  good  bargain  be  offered  them,  ihey  will  forget 
ail  their  business  to  accomplish  ihat ;  yet  they  make  light  of  this 
otfer.  (Malt.  xxii.  5.) 

'Secondly.  The  dtispeiate  uubaltover,  that,  seeing  his  sins  to 
be  so  great,  and  feeling  bis  heart  so  hard,  and  finding  but  little 
good  from  God,  since  he  sought  for  help,  like  Cain  fleelh  from 
the  presence  of  the  Lord ;  like  a  mad  lion  he  breaks  his  chain 


^          of  restraining  grace,  and  runneth  roaring  af^er  his  prey,  afler 
\       his  


B  cups,  queans,  lusts,  etc.,  and  so  will  not  hooor  Cbrist  i 


1 


TBI   SIHOESe   COMTKkT.  S8 

inicb  »  great  core  of  such  great  sina,  ihat  he  shall  never  have 
the  credit  of  it,  nor  will  be  beholding  lo  him  for  such  a  kindness. 
Thirdly.'  The  presumpiuousjMibelLever^lhst,  seeing  what  sins 
he  hath  cominiiied,  and^  itTmaj  be,  having  a  little  touch  and  ' 
some  •wrrow  fur  his  sins,  caCeheth  at  Chriar,  hoping  lo  be  eaved 
by  him  before  ever  he  come  to  be  looden  wicb  sin  as  the  greatest 
evil,  or  God's  wralli  kindled  against  him  as  hig  greatest  curae, 
and  M.  catching  at  Christ,  hopes  he  batli  Christ,  and,  hoping  he* 
halb  Chriat  already,  shuts  out  Chridt  for  the  future,  and  eo 
rejects  him.  (Micah  iii.  II.)  You  shall  have  these  men  and 
women  complain  never  of  the  want,  but  only  of  the  weakness, 
of  their  faith,  and  Ihey  will  not  be  beaten  off  from  thence ;  let 
them  hear  never  so  much  of  their  misery,  nor  see  never  so  much 
of  their  sin,  yet  they  will  not  be  beaten  off*  from  trusting  to 
Christ 

■  Fourthly.  The  loKering.  doubtful  unbeliever;  one  that  is  in  a 
question  whether  be  had  best  have  Cbrist  or  no.  lie  sees  some 
good  in  Christ  that  he  would  gladly  have  him  for,  as,  Then  I 
■hall  have  heaven,  and  pardon,  and  grace,  and  peace  ;  and  yet 
he  sees  many  things  he  dislikes  with  Christ,  as,  namely,  Then 
farewell  merry  meetings,  pastimes,  cards  and  dice,  pleasure  and 
■inful  games  ;  and  hunce  they  lotler  ibis  way  and  Ihat  way,  not 
knowing  whether  they  had  best  haveCbrist  or  no.  (James  i.  6, 7.) 
These  people  reject  Jesus  Christ.  -^ 

IV.  And  now  come  and  see  the  greatness  of  this  sin. 

1.  It  is  a  most  bloody  sin ;  it  is  a  tramphng  underfoot  the  blood 
of  the  Son  of  God.  X»eb.  i.  21.) 

2.  It  is  a  most  dishonoring  sin  ;  for  as  by  the  first  act  of  faith 

■  man  gbriSeih  God  by  obeying  all  the  law  at  an  instant  in 
Chriat,  so  by  rejecting  hi[u  thou  dost  break  all  those  laws  of 
God  in  an  instant,  and  so  dost  dishonor  him. 

3.  It  is  a  most  ungrateful  sin ;  it  is  despising  God's  greatest 
lore,  which  the  Lord  takes  most  Ticavily. 

4.  It  is  B  most  inexcusable  sjn  ;  for  what  have  you  to  cast 
■gainst  Jesus  ChrisT7~~Orniy  sms  are  »o  gr^at,  thou  wilt  say. 
But  take  Christ,  his  blood  will  waah  thee  from  all  thy  sins. 

O,  bat  my  heart  is  bard,  and  my  mind  blind. 
Yea,  but  lake  me,  and  1  will  break  thiue  heart,  open  thine  eyea. 
A  new  haart  is  God's  gift,  and  he  hath  promised  to  create  it  ^ 

O,  but  then  I  must  forsake  all  my  pleasures. 
Thou  shall  have  them  I'uUy,  coaiinually,  intinilely  in  Christ. 
0,  but  I  can  not  take  Christ. 

O,  but  Chriat  can  give  thee  a  hand  lo  ivotir*  him,  u  wall  h 
(iv«  away  himseU'. 


J 


r 


64  THE   SniCERB    COSVEHT. 

5,  It  IB  a  most  lieatTgin-     "Wliat  sin  will  gripe  so  in  hell  u    I 
this?  (John  ili.  19.)     God  the  Father  shall  strike  the  devils  fo*  j 
breiikiug  the  law  of  the  creation ;  but  God  the  Son  shall  stHka  J 
thee,  and  the  Comfurter  hiinBelf  shall  set  himself  againxt  the«^,  for  1 
despising  the  means  and  ol&rs  of  rgdulOrtioii-     The  devils  might 
never  have  had  mercy,  but  ihou  sHalt  think  with  anguish,  and  vexa- 
tion, and  madness  of  heart,  I  might  have  had  a  Christ;  be  was 
oifered  unto  me.     Mcrty  wooed  this  stubborn,  proud  heart  to 
yield.     liat,  O,  rock  of  adamant  that  I  was !  it  did  not  atTect  me. 
0,  fly  speedily  to  this  city  of  refuge,  lest  the  pursuer  of  blood 
overtake  thee. 

Away,  then,  out  of  yourselves,  [ftlbe  Lord  Jesus.  Heaven  and 
earth  leave  thee,  and  have  forsaken  thee  :  now,  there  is  but  on* 
more  tliat  can  do  thee  good,  and  deliver  thy  soul  from  endlesa 
sorrow  :  go  to  him,  and  take  hold  on  him,  not  with  the  hand  of 
presumption  and  love  to  thyself,  to  save  thyself,  but  with  the  hand 
of  faith,  and  love  to  him,  to  honor  him. 

I  am  well  enough  already :  what  tell  you  me  of  Christ  ? 

Uhis  is  the  damning  sin  of  these  times :  when  men  have  Christ 
ed  unto  them,  foretelling  them  else  of  wrath  to  corae,  they 
say  they  are  well ;  hence,  feeling  no  judgment  here,  they  fear  no 
wrath  hereafter ;  hence,  being  well,  they  feel  no  Deed  of  Christ ; 
hence,  till  ihey  die,  they  never  seek  out  for  a  Saviour.  Men  will 
not  come  into  the  ark  already  made  for  them  before  the  flood 
arise.  The  world  makes  so  mu«h  of  those  it  nurseth  up.  that  they 
are  unwilling  to  come  to  heaven,  when  they  are  called  to  come 

15ul  it  may  be  Christ  hath  not  redeemed  me,  nor  shed  his  blood 
for  me ;  therefore  why  should  I  go  to  him  ?  J 

It  may  be,  it  is  true  j  may  be  not  i  yet  do  thou  venture,  as  thosa,   H 
(Joel  ii.,)  "Who  knows  but  the  Lord  may  return?"  Itistrue,  Go4  H 
hath  elected  but  few,  and  so  the  Son  hatii  shed  his  blood,  and  died     * 
but  fur  a  few ;  yet  this  is  no  excuse  for  thee  to  lie  down  and 
say,  Wliat  should  I  seek  out  of  myself  for  succor?     Thou  must 
in  this  case  venture  and  try,  as  many  men  amongst  us  do  now, 
I  who,  hear  in  If  of  one  good  livitig  fallen,  twenty  of  them  will  go  « 
1  and  seek  for  it,  although  Ihey  know  only  one  shall  have  it.    There*  ^M 
fore  say  as  those  lepers  in  Samaria,  If  I  stay  here  in  my  sins, IS 
die !  if  I  go  out  to  the  camp  of  the  Syrians,  we  may  live ;  we  caa  ^ 
but  die,  however ;  if  I  go  out  to  Clirist,  I  may  get  mercy  ;  how- 
ever, I  can  hut  die,  and  it  is  belter  to  die  at  Clirist'a  feet  than  in 
thine  own  puddle.     Content  not  yourselves  therefore  with  your 
bare  reformation,  and  amending  your  lives;  this  is  but  to  crosi 
(he  debt  in  thine  own  book ;    it  remainelh  uncancelled  in  the  I 
creditor's  book  still :  but  go,  tske,  ofler  up  this  eternal  tacrtflcA-l 


THB 


COST  EST. 


6S 


before  the  ejes  of  God  the  Faiber,  and  cry  guilty  nt  his  bar,  and 
look  for  mercy  from  him ;  sigh  under  ihy  bondnge,  ihai  m  Mosea 

s  Bent  unto  ibe  Israeliles,  so  may  Clirisl  be  sent  into  thy  sou).  /  1 
Be«t  not  therefore  in  the  siji^t  or  sense  of  a  hci^lees  condiiioniNy  j 
•■Ting,  I  can  not  help  myself,  unless  Christ  dot& :  siglPunIi)  the 
Lord  Jesus  in  heaven  for  succor,  and  admire  the  Lord  forever, 
thai  when  there  va»  no  help,  and  when  he  might  have  raised 
[I  of  the  stones  childreu  to  praise  him.  yet  he  should  send  his 
Son  out  of  his  bosom  to  Hare  ihee.     So  much  for  this  pnrticul&r. 

The  fillh  divine  principle  follows  to  be  handled. 


CHAPTER  V. 


"  Strait  is  the  gale  and  narrow  is  the  way  that  leadeth  nnio 
life,  and  few  there  be  thai  find  it."  (MaiL  vii.  14.) 
Here  are  two  parts ;  — 

1.  The  paucity  of  them  tlial  shall  be  saved :  few  find  the  way 
thither.       ~ — ■    - 

2.  The  dJIficuU;  of  being  saved :  strait  and  narrow  is  the  way 
■nd  gate  unto  life. 

Hence  arise  two  doctrines  :  — 

1.  That  the  number  of  them  that  shall  be  saved  is  very  small. 
(Luke  xiii.  H.)  The  devil  hath  his  drove,  and  swarms  to  go  to 
hell,  as  fast  as  bees  to  their  hive.  Christ  liath  his  tl9ck.  and  that  ii 
but  a  little  flock  ;  hence  God's  children  are  colledjiewelg,  (Mai.  iii. 
17,}  which  commonly  are  kept  secret,  in  respect  of  the  oilier 
hmber  in  llie  house ;  hence  they  are  cat  led  stranj^rs  and  pilgrims, 
which  are  very  few  in  respect  of  the  inhabiianis  of  ihe  country 
through  which  they  pass ;  hence  they  are  called  sons  of  God, 
(IJoho  iii.  i:)  of  the  blood  royul,  which  are  few  in  reepecl  of 
common  subjects. 

But  «ee  the  truth  of  this  point  in  these  two  things :  — 

Pint,  look  to  all  ages  and  times  of  the  world ;  secondly,  to  all 
phues  and  persons  in  the  world  i  and  we  shall  see  fen  men  were 
Hv«d. 

I .  Look  to  alt  ages,  and  we  shall  End  but  a  handful  saved.  As 
won  B«  ever  the  Lord  began  to  keep  house,  and  there  were  but 
two  famitieg  in  it,  there  was  a.  bloody  Cain  living,  and  a  good 
Abel  (lain.  And  as  the  world  increased  in  number,  so  in  wick- 
■M.    Qvn.  vi  IX,  it  i>  said,  "All  fieah  bad  corrupted  thair 


56  TUB     SIKCCRE    COKTKBT. 

ways,"  an'i  amongst  so  many  (housand  men,  nol  one  rightcool  ] 
but  NohIi   and  hi«  fnniily,  and  jet  in  the  ark  there  crept  ii 
cursed  ChHm. 

Afterwards,  aji  Abrahnm's  posterity  increased,  so  we  see  thdr  I 
sin  abaumled.  riWIien    his   posterity   was  in  Egypt,  where,  ona  i 
would  think,  if  ever  men  were  pood,  now  it  would  appear,  beii^  J 
BO  heavily  attlicled  by  Phai-aoh,  being  by  bo  many  miracles  mirao-  j 
ulousiy  delivered  by  iJie  hand  of  &iose«,  yet  most  of  these  God  i 
was  wroth  with,  (Heb.  iii.  12.)  and  only  two  of  them.  Caleb  and 
Joshua,  went  into  Canaan,  a  type  of  heaven.     Look  into  Solo- 
mon's lime,  what  glorious  timca  ?  what  great  profession  was  there 
then  ?     Yet,  after  his  death,  tea  tribes  fell  to  the  odioos  sin  of 
idolatry,  following  the  eommajidof  Jeroboam,  their  king.     Look 
further  into  litainh's  time,  when  there  were  multitudes  of  sacri- 
ficea  and  prayers,  (Is.  i.  11  ;)  yet  then  there  was  but  a  remnant ; 
nay,  a  very  little  remnant,  that  should  be  saved.     And  look  to 
the  time  of  Christ's  coming  in  the  flesh,  (for  I  pick  out  the  best 
time  of  all.)  when  one  would  think,  by  sueh  sermons  he  preached, 
such  miraeles  hfl  wrought,  such  a  life  as  he  led,  all  the  Jewi 
would  have  entertained  him  ;  yet  it  is  said,  "  He  came  unto  his 
own,  and  they  received  hiui  noL"     So  few,  that  Christ  himself 
admires  at  one  good  Nathaniel,  "  Behold  an  Israelite  in  whom  , 
there  is  no  guile."    In  the  apostles'  time,  tnajiy,  indeed,  were  con- 
verted, but  few  comparatively,  and  amongst  the  best  churcheg 
many  bad,  as  ibal  at  Philippi.    (Phil.  iii.  18.)     Many  had  ■ 
name  to  live,  but  were  dead,  nnd  few  only  kept  their  garmentt 
unspotted.      And    presently,  after   the  apostles'   time,  "  Manj' 
grievous  wolves  came  and  devoured  the  sheep ;  "  and  so,  in  su<^- 
ceeding  ages,  (Rev.  zii.  9,)  all  the  earth  wondered  at  the  whon 
in  Buarlet. 

And  in  Lulher's  time,  when  the  light  began  to  arise  again,  hfl 
saw  so  many  carnal  gospelers,  that  he  breaks  out  in  one  sermOB 
into  these  speeches  :  "  God  grant  I  may  never  live  to  see  thoM  ^ 
bloody  days  that  are  coming  upon  an  ungodly  world."  Latinm  ' 
heard  so  much  profuneness  in  his  time,  that  he  thought  veri^' 
doomsday  was  just  at  hand.  And  have  not  our  ears  heard  cen- 
suring those  in  the  Palatinate,  where  (as  it  is  reported)  many 
have  fallen  fi^m  the  glorious  gospel  to  Popery,  as  fust  as  leaves 
fall  in  autumn?  Who  would  have  thought  there  had  lurked 
such  hearts  under  such  a  show  of  detesting  Popery  as  was 
among  them  before  ?  And  at  Christ's  coming,  shall  he  find  faith 
on  the  earth  ? 

2.  Let  us  look  into  all  places  and  persons,  and  see  how  few 
■ball  be  saved.     The  world  is  now  spUt  ij       "  .     r-      _  _ 


pUt  into  four  parts,  Europi^    ■ 


THF  arNCEaE   coitvert. 


A«ia,  Africa,  snd  America;  and  the  ihree  bi^^st  parla  are 
drowned  in  a  deluge  of  prafiincness  and  snperelUwn ;  ihey  do 
not  BO  much  aa  profess  Christ  j  jou  may  see  the  sentence  of 
death  written  on  these  men's  foreheada.  ( Jer.  x.  ull.)  But  let  ua 
look  upon  the  best  part  of  the  world,  and  that  is  Europe ;  how 
lew  ihall  be  saved  there  !  First,  the  Greeiifn  church,  how- 
soever, now  in  these  days,  their  good  patriarch  of  Constantino- 
ple is  about  a  general  reformation  among  them,  and  halh  done 
much  good,  yet  are  they  for  the  present,  and  have  been  for  the 
most  part  of  them,  without  ihe  saving  means  of  knowledge. 
"They  content  themselves  with  ihcir  old  superstitions,  having  lit- 
tic  or  no  preaching  at  all.  And  for  the  other  parts,  as  Italy, 
Spain,  France,  Germany,  for  the  moat  part  they  are  Popish ;  and 
•ee  the  end  of  these  men.  (2  Thess.  ii. 'J-12.)  And  now  amdltgst 
them  that  carry  the  badge  of  honesty,  I  will  not  spcnk  what 
Bine  ears  have  heani  and  my  heart  believes  concerning  other 
churches  :  I  will  come  inlo'our  own  church  of  England,  which  jT" 
the  most  flourishing  church  in  the  world ;  never  had  church  such 
preachers,  such  means;  yet  hnve  we  not  some  chapela  and 
churches  stand  aa  dark  lanterns  without  light,  where  people  are 
led  with  blind,  or  idle,  or  licentious  ministers,  imd  so  both  fail 
into  the  diich  ? 

Nay,  even  amongst  them  that  liavc  the  means  of  grace,  but 
few  shall  be  saved.  It  may  be  sometimes  amongst  ninety-nine  ' 
in  a  piu'ish,  Christ  sends  a  minister  to  call  some  one  lost  sheep 
among  them.  (Matt,  xiii.)  Three  grounds  were  bad  where  the 
•eed  waa  town,  and  only  one  good.  It  is  a  strange  speech  of 
Chrysostom  in  his  fourth  sermon  to  the  [icople  of  Antioch,  where 
he  was  much  beloved,  and  did  much  good  —  How  many  do  you 
Ihink,  MUth  he,  shall  be  saved  in  this  city  ?  It  will  be  a  luird 
nMech  to  you,  but  I  will  epeak  it ;  though  here  bo  so  many 
titouranda  of  you,  yet  there  can  not  be  found  a  hundred  thai 
riudl  be  saved,  and  I  doubt  of  them  too ;  for  what  villainy  is 
there  among  youth !  what  sloth  in  old  men  !  and  so  he  goes  on. 
So  say  I,  Never  tell  me  we  are  baptized,  and  are  Christians,  and 
■  trust  to  Christ ;  let  us  but  separate  the  goats  from  the  sheep, 
and  exclude  none  but  such  as  the  Scriptures  doth,  and  sets  a 
CTOH  upon  their  doors,  with.  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  them,  and 
we  shall  see  only  a  few  in  the  city  shall  be  saved. 

1.  Cast  out  all  the  _pro fane  people  among  u.i,  as  drunkards, 
•wearers,  whores,  liars,  wTnchllie  "Scripture  brands  for  black 

I    akeep.  and  condemns  them  in  a,  hundred  pinces. 

2.  Set  by  nU  civil  men  that  arc  but  wolves  ohaineii  up,  tamet 
■    !  itmSurT-"-  ■  ■    ■  - 


I  ieiiia,  twine  ii 


HUT  Mi;adow,  that  pay  all  they  owe,  and 


net 
do  I 


t 


58  THE   SWCEBE   CONVERT. 

I  nobody  nny  hArm,  jetdojK«iejjjy_e:eaLS90'I ;  I'lat  plead  for  j 
themselves,  and  say,  Wlio  can   say.  Black  is  mine  eye?     "" 
are  riglitcous  men,  wiiom  Christ  never  came  ro  call,    ■*  I 
come  not  to  call  Ihe  righteous,  liul  sinners,  to  repentance." 

3.  Cast  by  all  tu!jtocrilc-g.jl]m  like  sltige players,  in  the  sight 
of  others,  act  tlie  part  of  kings  and  honest  men ;  when,  look 
upon  them  in  their  tyring  house,  they  are  but  base  variety. 

4.  Formal  protesGors  and  carnal  gospelera,  that  have  a  thing 
like  failh,  and  like  8orrow,'"ah3"T3a!'"Irutf  repentance,  and  Uk« 
good  desires,  but  yet  they  be  but  pictures ;  they  deceive  olhen 
and  themselves  loo.  (2  Tim.  iii.  5. J 

Set  by  these  four  sorts,  how  few  then  are  to  be  saved,  eveo 
among  them  that  are  hatched  in  the  bosom  of  the  church  ! 

First.  Here,  then,  is  a  use  of  encouragement  Be  not  discou^ 
aged  by  the  name  of  singularity.  What !  do  you  think  your" 
self  wiser  than  others  ?  and  shall  none  be  saved  but  such  as  are 
BO  precise  as  ministers  prate?  Are  you  wiser  than  others,  that 
you  think  none  shall  go  to  heaven  but  yourself?  I  tell  you,  if 
I  you  would  be  saved,  you  must  be  singular  men,  not  out  of  fao* 
\  tion,  but  out  of  conscience.  (Acts  xxiv.  16.) 

Secondly.  Here  is  matter  of  terror  lo  all  those  that  be  of 
opinion  that  few  shall  be  saved  ;  and  therefore,  when  they  are 
convinced  of  the  danger  of  ain  by  the  word,  they  fly  to  this 
shelter:  If  I  be  damned,  it  will  be  woe  U>  many  more  beside  me 
then  ;  as  though  most  should  not  be  damned.  O,  yes,  the  moat 
of  them  that  live  in  the  church  shall  perish ;  and  this  made  • 
hermit  which  Theodoret  mentions  to  live  IJfteen  years  in  a  cell  ia, 
a  denolale  wilderness,  with  nothing  but  bread  and  water,  and  yet 
doubled,  after  all  his  sorrow,  whether  he  should  be  saved  or 
not.     0.  God's  wrath  is  heavy,  which  thou  shalt  one  day  bear. 

Thirdly.  This  ministereib  exhorlaiion  to  all  confident  peo- 
ple, that  think  they  believe,  and  say,  they  doubt  not  but  to  ba 
saved,  and  hence  do  not  much  fear  death,  0,  learn  hence  to 
suspect  and  fear  your  estates,  and  fear  it  so  much  that  thoa 
canst  not  be  quiet  until  thou  hast  got  some  assunuice  thou  shalt 
be  saved.  When  Christ  told  his  disciples  that  one  of  them 
should  betray  him,  they  all  said,  "  MasIer,iBit  I?"  But  if  he  had 
said  eleven  of  liiem  should  betray  him,  all  except  one,  would  tbef 
not  all  conclude.  Surely,  it  is  I  ?  If  the  Lord  had  said.  Only  few 
■boU  be  damned,  every  man  might  fear,  It  may  be  it  is  I ;  but  now 
b|ia«yBnioslshall,  every  roan  may  cry  out  and  say,  Surely  it  is  L 
No  humble  heart  but  is  driven  to  and  fro  with  many  stinging 
fy§n  this  way ;  yet  there  is  a  generation  of  presuraptuooa, 
braEen-faced,  bold  people,  that  confidently  think  of  themaelve*) 


THB   ai.NCKRE    COHTKRT.  69       . 

w  the  Jews  of  the  Phnriseeg,  (being  so  holy  and  strict,)  thftt  h 
if  God  sAve  but  two  in  the  world,  (hey  shall  make  one.  f 

The  child  of  God.  indeed,  is  bold  as  &  lion ;  but  he  halh  God's 
•pint  and  promise,  assuring  him  of  hia  etemnl  welfare.  But  I 
^leak  of  divers  thut  have  no  sound  ground  to  prove  this  point, 
^hich  they  pertinaciouslj  defend,)  ihitt  they  ehail  be  saved. 
Thia  confident  humor  rageth  raost  of  all  in  our  old  professors 
at  lai^.  who  think,  that  is  a  je$t  indeed,  that  having  been  of  n 
good  belief  so  long,  that  they  now  should  be  so  far  beliindhiind  as 
to  begin  the'work,  and  lay  the  foundation  anew.  And  not  only 
among  these,  but  amongst  divers  Mirls  of  people  whom  the  devil 
never  troubles,  because  be  b  sure  of  them  already,  and  therefore 
cries  peace  in  their  eare,  whose  consciences  never  trouble  them, 
because  that  bath  shut  its  eyes ;  and  bence  they  sleep,  and 
•keeping  dream  that  God  is  merciful  unto  them,  and  will  be  so : 
yet  never  f«e  ihey  are  deceived,  tintti  they  awake  with  the  flamea 
fff  bell  about  their  ears ;  and  the  world  troubles  them  not ; 
Aey  have  their  hearts'  desire  here,  because  ihey  are  friends  to 
it,  and  80  enemies  to  God.  And  ministers  never  trouble  them, 
tot  they  have  none  such  as  are  fit  for  tlmt  work  near  them ;  or 
if  they  have,  they  can  sit  and  sleep  in  the  church,  and  choose 
irheiber  they  will  believe  him.  And  their  friends  never  trouble 
them,  because  they  are  afraid  to  displease  them.  And  God  him- 
■elf  never  trouble*  them,  because  that  time  is  to  come  hereafter. 
This  one  truth,  well  jrondered  and  thought  on,  may  damp  thine 
beart,  and  make  thy  conscience  fly  in  thy  face,  and  say, 
"  Thou  art  the  man  ; "  it  may  he  ihcre  are  heller  in  hetl  than 
ttjielf,  that  art  so  confldent;  and  therefore  tell  me,  what  hast 
Uwii  to  say  for  thyself,  that  thou  shall  be  saved  ?  In  what  thing 
hut  thou  gone  beyond  them  that  "  think  they  are  rich  and  want 
■Olhing,  who  yet  are  poor,  blind,  miserable,  and  naked  ?  " 

Thou  wilt  say,  haply,  first,  I  have  left  my  sina  I  once  lived 
b,  and  am  now  no  drunkard,  no  swearer,  no  liar,  Slc. 

I  answer.  Thou  maycst  be  washed  from  tliy  mire,  (the  pollu- 

m  of  the  world,)  and  yet  be  a  swine  in  God's  account,  (2  Pel. 

20  i)  thou  mayest  live  a  blameless,  innocent,  honest,  smooth 
Kfe.  and  yet  be  a  miserable  creaiure  still.  (PliiL  iji.  6.) 

But  I  pray,  and  that  often. 

Tliis  thou  mnycst  do,  and  yet  never  be  saved.  (Is.  i.  11.) 
To  what  purjHise  is  your  muliiiude  of  sacrifices?     Nay,  thoa 

lyesi  pray  willi  much  afTeclion,  with  a  good  heart,  as  thou 
Ihinkcst,  yet  a   thouiiand   milea  off  from  being  saved.  (Pror. 

4.  a*.) 

Bui  I  (iut  somclimet,  as  well  as  pray. 


60  THE   aINCEKE   CONVERT. 

So  did  the  acrilies  and  Pharisees,  even  twice  s  week,  whM 
could  not  be  public,  but  private  fasta.  And  yet  this  righteon 
DesB  could  never  Eave  them. 

But  I  hear  the  word  of  God,  and  like  the  best  preachers. 

This  thou  mayest  do  too,  and  yet  never  be  saved.  Nay,  llKMi 
mayest  bo  bear,  as  lo  receive  much  joy  and  comfort  in  hearing, 
nay,  to  believe  and  cnlch  bold  on  Christ,  and  so  eay  and  think  he 
b  tbinc,  and  yet  not  be  saved  ;  as  the  slony  ground  did,  (MatL 
xiii.,)  who  heard  (he  word  with  joy,  and  for  a  eeason  believed. 

I  read  the  Scriptures  often. 

This  you  may  do  loo,  and  yet  never  he  tuived  ;  as  the  Phari- 
sees, who  were  so  perfect  in  reading  the  Bible,  that  Christ  needed 
but  only  say,  "  It  bath  been  said  of  old  time ; "  for  they  knew  the 
text  and  place  well  enouf;b  without  intimation. 

But  I  am  grieved  and  am  sorrowful,  and  repent  for  my  sins 
pa.^U 

Judoa  did  thus,  (Matt  sxvii.  3 ;)  he  repents  himself  with  a  legal 
repentance  for  feur  of  hell,  and  with  a  natural  sorrow  for  deal- 
ing so  unkindly  with  Christ,  in  betraying  not  only  blood,  but 
innocent  blood.  True  humiliation  id  over  accompanied  with 
hearty  reformation. 

0,  but  I  love  good  men  and  their  company. 

So  did  the  five  foolish  virgins  love  the  company,  and  (at  the 
time  of  eiiremity)  the  very  oil  and  grace  of  the  wise  ;  yet  they 
were  locked  out  of  the  gales  of  mercy. 

But  God  hath  given  me  more  knowledge  than  others,  or  than 
I  myself  had  once. 

This  thou  mayest  have,  and  be  able  to  teach  others,  and  think 
BO  of  thyself  too,  and  yet  never  be  saved.  ' 

But  I  keep  the  Lord's  day  strictly.  I 

So  did  the  Jews,  whom  yet  Christ  condemned,  and  were  newrfl 

I  have  very  many  good  desires  and  endeavors  lo  get  to 
heaven. 

These  thou  and  thousands  may  have,  and  yet  miss  of  heaven. 
Many  shall  seek  to  enter  in  at  that  narrow  gate,  and  not  be 

True,  tliou  wilt  say,  Many  men  do  many  duties,  but  wiOiout 
any  life  or  zeal ;  I  am  zealous. 

So  tltou  mayest  be,  and  yet  never  be  saved,  as  Jehu.     Paul 
was  zealous  when  be  was  a  Pharisee,  and  if  he  wa.s  so  for  a  false 
religion,  and  a  bad  cause,  why,  much  more  mayest  thou  be  for  a  . 
good  cause ;  so  zealous  as  not  only  lo  cry  out  gainst  profane- 
ness  in  the  wiektd,  but  civil  honesty  of  others,  and  hypocrisy  of  j 


TUB   HtNCEBB    COKVSfiT. 


61 


ethers,  jea,  even  uf  the  coldness  of  tlie  best  of  God's  people  ; 
I  ibou  majest  be  the  fore  horse  in  the  team,  and  the  ringleader  of 
I  food  exercises  amongst  the  best  men,  (as  Joash,  a  tricked  king, 
was  the  first  that  complained  of  the  negligence  of  his  best  olS- 
eera  in  not  repairing  tbe  temple,)  and  so  stir  them  up  unto  it; 
nay,  Uiou  mayest  be  ho  forward  as  to  be  persecuted,  and  not 
yield  an  inch,  nor  shrink  in  the  wetting,  but  maj-cst  manfully  ' 
and  courageously  stand  it  out  in  time  of  persecution,  as  Uio 
ibomy  ground  did ;  ao  zealous  thou  mayest  im,  aa  to  like  best  of  i 
and  to  tlock  most  unto  tbe  most  zenlous  preacbers,  that  search 
men's  consciences  best,  as  the  whole  country  of  Judea  came 
flocking  to  John's  ministry,  and  delighted  to  bear  him  for  a  sea- 
■on ;  nay,  thou  mayest  be  zealous  as  to  take  sneet  delight  in 
doing  of  all  these  things.  (Is.  Iviii.  '2,  8,)  "They  delight  In  ap- 
proaching near  unto  God,"  yet  come  short  of  heaven. 

But  tbou  wilt  say,  True.insnyii  mati  ndes  post  that  breaks  I 
his  neck  at  last ;  many  a  tnan  is  zealous,  but  his  fire  is  soon  I 
quenched,  and  his  zeal  is  soon  spent ;  they  hold  not  out ;  whereas  I 
I  aro  constant,  and  persevere  in  godly  courses.  I 

So  did  that  young  man  ;  yet  he  was  a  graceless  man.  (Mall.  I 
xii.  20,)  "  All  ihe^e  things  have  I  done  from  my  youth  ;  what        I 

It  b  true,  hypocrites  may  per&evarBi  but  ihey  know  them- 
•elvee  to  he  naught  all  the  while,  and  so  deceive  others ;  but  I         J 
Am  persuaded  that  I  am  in  God's  fuvor,  and  in  a  safe  and  happy      A 
Mtaie,  since  I  do  all  with  a  good  heart  fur  God.  /  1 

This  thou  niayest  verily  think  of  thyself,  and  yet  be  deceived  Y    1 
and  damned,  and  go  to  ibe  devil  at  lust.   "  There  is  a  way,"  saith        I 
Bolomoo,  "that  seemetb  right  to  &  man,  but  tbe  end  thereof  is 
the  iray  of  death,"     For  he  is  a  hypocrite  not  only  that  makes 
a  aeeming  outward  show  of  what  he  bath  not,  but  also  that  hath    . 
4jriie^how  of  what  indeed  there  is  not.     Tbe  ilrsrson  of  hyp^' 
.  ocril^  llcnITS  others  only  ;  thj  Uf ler,  having  some  inward  yel    / 
.  fiMDinon  work,  deceive  themselves  too.     (James  L  26,)  "  If  any  V    I 
1  seem  to  hie  religious,"  (so  many  are,  and  so  deceive  ^jo       I 
world :)  but  it  is  added,  "  deceiving  his  own  soul."     Nay,  thoa\       I 
IlkByest  go  BO  fairly,  and  live  so  honestly,  that  all  the  best  Chris-\      1 
tfauis  about  tliee  may  think  well  of  ihec  and  never  suspect  ihee,        | 
and  so  mayeal  |ia«s  through  the  world,  and  die  with  a  deluded        ( 
«Oinfon  that  thou  shall  go  to  heaven  and  be  canonised  for  a        I 
■unt  in  thy  funeral  sermon,  and  never  know  thou  art  counterfeit  ,    I 

»liU  the  I»rd  brings  ihee  to  ihy  strict  and  last  examination,  and  bo  /    I 
Ibou  r«peivesi  that  dreadful  sentence, "  Go,  ye  cursed."   So  it  waa  / 
with  llie  five  foolish  virgins,  thai  were  never  discovered  by  llie 
VWL.  I.  f. 


62  THE   BnJCSRB   CONVERT. 

wise,  nor  hy  llicmsclves,  until  the  gate  of  gr&ce  was  shut  upoB 

them,     11'  thou  hast,  iheFefore,  no  belter  evidences  10  show  for 

thyself,  tlmt  thine  estate  is  g^nod,  than  these,  I  will  not  give  a  pin's 

point  for  all  ihy  Haltering  false  hopes  of  being  saved.    But  it  niaj 

I    be  tliou  hast  never  yet  come  so  far  as  to  this  pilch  ;  and  if  not. 

I  .Lord,  what  will  become  of  thee  ?     -^jip""'  '''Thfllf  IP'T^^i  ""j^ 

J  Jwhen,  in  this  shipwreck  of  soub,  thou  seest  so  many  thousands 

lIsiDk,  cry  out,  and  conclude,   II  is  a  wonder  of  wondeni,  and  a 

iftbousan^  and  a  thousand  to  one,  if  ever  thou  comest  safe  lo 

llshorer 

O,  strive,  then,  to  be  one  of  them  that  shall  be  saved,  though 
it  cost  thee  thy  blood  and  the  loss  of  all  that  thou  hast ;  labor  to 
go  beyond  all  those  that  go  so  far  and  yet  perish  at  the  last.  Do 
not  say  thai,  seeing  so  few  shall  be  saved,  therefore  this  disrour- 
l-Bgeth  mc  from  seeking,  because  all  my  labor  may  be  in  vain. 
^Cinaider  that  Christ  hero  makes  another  and  a  better  use  of  il. 
(Lukt)  iii  24.)  Seeing  thai  "many  shall  seek  and  not  enter, 
therefore,"  saith  he,  "strive  to  enter  in  at  the  sirail  gate."  Ven- 
ture, at  least,  and  try  what  the  Lord  will  do  for  thee^ 

Wherein  doth  the  child  of  God,  and  so  how  may  I,  go  beyond 
these  hypocrites  that  go  so  far  ? 
In  three  things  principally. 

First.  No  unregenerale  man,  though  he  go  never  so  far,  let 
him  do  never  so  much,  but  he  lives  in  some  one  sin  or  other, 
secret  or  open,  lilile  or  great.  Judas  went  far,  but  he  was  cov- 
k  etous.  llerod  went  far,  but  he  loved  hb  Herodias.  Every  dog 
J  halh  his  kennel ;  every  switi«  lialh  his  swill,  and  every  wicked 
|mufl  his  Inst-     For  no  unregenerale  man  halh  fruition  of  God 

some  good  to_(M3nIent  it  i  which  good  is  to  be  found  only  in  the 
ftjuntairi  of  ~kll  gooJ,  and  that  is  God,  or  in  the  dstern,  andthat 
,  is  in  Ihe  creatures.  Hence,  a  man  having  lost  full  content  in 
]  God,  he  see^  for  and  feeds  upon  contentment  in  the  creature 
J  which  he  makes  a  god  to  him  ;  and  here  lies  his  lust  or  sin, 
which  he  must  needs  live  in.  Hence,  ask  those  men  that  go 
very  far.  and  lake  their  penny  for  good  silver,  and  commend 
themselves  for  their  good  desires  —  I  say,  a>:k  them  if  they  have 
no  sin.  Yes,  say  ihey ;  who  can  live  without  sin?  And  so 
they  give  way  to  sin,  and  llicrefore  live  in  sin.  Nay,  commonly, 
nil  llie  duties,  prayers,  care,  and  zeal  of  the  best  hypocrites  are 
to  hide  a  tual,  as  the  whore  in  the  Proverbs,  that  wipes  her 
mouth,  and  goes  lo  the  temple,  and  pays  her  vows ;  or  lo  feed  a 
lust,  as  Jehu  his  zeal  against  Baal  was  to  get  u  kingdom.  There 
root  of  bitterness   in   the  best    hypocrites,  which. 


Il 


THE   SINCERB    COHTERT.  63 

howsoever  it  be  lopped  off  sometimes  hy  sickness  or  horror  of 
conscieace,  and  a  man  halh  purpoaea  never  to  commit  again,  yet 
there  it  secretly  lurks  ;  and,  though  it  secmeth  to  be  bound  and 
conquered  by  the  word,  or  by  prayer,  or  by  outward  crosses,  or 
white  the  hand  of  God  is  upon  a  man,  yet  the  inward  strength 
and  power  of  it  remains  still :  and  therefore,  when  temptations, 
like  strong  Philistines,  are  upon  this  man  again,  he  breaks  all  i 
TOWS,  promises,  bonds  of  God,  and  will  save  the  life  of  hia  sin. 

Secondly.     No  unregenerate  man  or  woman  ever  came  to  be 
poor  in  spirit,  and  so  lo  be  carried  out  of  all  duties  unto  Christ.  -. 
it  It  were  "possible  for  them  lo  forsake  and  break  loose  forever 
from  all  sin,  yet  here  they  stick,  as  the  scribes  and  Pharisees ; 

like  zealous  Paul  before  bis  conversion,  they  fasted  and  /  J 
prayed,  and  kept  the  Sabbath,  but  they  rested  in  their  Je£al/*j 
righieou^ne^,  and  in  the  pertbnnance  of  these  and  the  like 
ihni«s: — TakF  ihe  best  hypocrite,  that  hath  the  most  strong 
persuasions  of  God's  love  to  him,  and  ask  him  why  he  hopes  to 
be  saved.  He  will  answer,  I  pray,  read,  hear,  love  good  men, 
cry  out  of  the  »na  of  the  tune.  And  tell  him  again  that  a 
hypocrite  may  climb  these  stairs  and  go  as  far,  he  will  reply, 
True,  indeed  ;  but  they  do  not  what  they  do  with  a  sound  heart, 
but  to  be  »een  of  men.  Mark,  now,  how  these  men  feel  a  good^ 
heart  in  themselves  and  in  all  things  they  do ;  and  therefore 
feel  not  a  want  of  all  good,  which  is  poverty  of  spirit ;  and  there- 
fore here  they  fall  short  (Is.  IxvL  2.)  There  were  divers 
hypocrites  forward  for  the  worship  of  God  in  the  .temple ;  but 
God  loathes  these,  because  not  poor  in  spirit ;  to  them  only,  it  ia 
•aid,  the  Lord  wilMonfc; — i^bwre"  BBCinBany  professors  very 
forward  for  all  good  duties,  but  as  ignorant  of  Christ,  when  ibey 
are  sifted,  as  blocks.  And  if  a  man  (as  few  do)  know  not  Christ, 
he  must  rest  in  his  duties,  because  he  knows  not  Christ,  to  whom 
mu&t  go  and  be  carried  if  ever  he  be  saved.  I  have  heard 
1  man  that,  being  condemned  to  die,  thought  to  escape  the 
gallows,  and  to  save  himself  from  hanging,  by  a  certain  gid  he  ^^ 
■aid  he  had  of  whistling.  So  men  seek  to  save  theinselves  by  / 
their  gifts  of  knowledge,  gifts  of  memory,  gifts  of  prayer ;  and  J 
when  tEeysee  they  must  die  for  tlieit  sins,  UlU  Is  the  ruin  of 
many  a  soul,  that,  though  lie  forsake  Egypt  and  his  sins  and 
flesh  pots  there,  and  will  never  be  go  as  he  halh  been,  yet  he 
never  cometh  into  Canaan,  but  logeth  himself  and  bis  soul  in  a 
wilderness  of  many  duties,  and  there  perisbetb. 

Thirdly.     If  any  unregenerate   man  come   unto  Christ,  he 

never  get)  into  Christ,  ihut  is,  never  takes  his  eternal  re^t  and  -i 

lodging  in  Jesus  Christ  only.    ^Ueb.  iv,  i,)     Judaa  followed 


1^' 


[ 


64  THE   9ISCERE    OONTBRT. 

Christ  for  tlie  bug ;  he  would  have  tho  hag  and  Christ  too.  The 
young  mnn  irame  unto  Christ  to  he.  his  disciple ;  but  he  would 
have  Christ  and  the  world  too.     They  will  not  content  them- 

■.eelves  wiih  GhngL.aIon,ej  nor  ^ih  ihe  world  alone,  but  mnks 
their  markels  out  of  bo[h,  like  whorieh  wives,  that  will  plenae 
their  husbwidB  nnd  oihers  too.  Men  io  distress  of  conscience, 
.  if  they  have  comfort  from  Christ,  they  are  contented  ;  if  they 
have  salvation  from  hell  by  Christ,  they  are  contenled ;  but 
Christ  himself  contents  them  not.  Thus  far  a  hypocrite  goes 
not  So  much  for  ihe  first  doctrine  observed'  out  of  the  text. 
I  come  now  to  the  second. 

Boelrim  2.  Tliat  those  that  arc  saved  arc  saved  with  mudt 
difficulty  !  or  it  is  a  wonderful  hard  thing  to  be  saved. 

The  gat«  is  strait,  and  therefore  a  man  must  pwcat  and  strfv* 
t«^teri  both  the  entrance  is  difBcult,  and  the  progress  of  sal- 
talion  too.  Jesus  Chrigt  ia  not  got  with  a  wet  finger.  It  is  not 
wishinfT  and  oeBiHB^  tS'tC'iAvw  Will  .Jjring  men  to  heaven ; 
hell's  mouth  is  full  of  good  wishes.     It  is  not  shedding  a  tear  at 

>R  Mrmon,  or  blubbering  now  and  then  in  a  comer,  and  saying 
over  thy  prayers,  and  crying  God  mercy  for  thy  sins,  will  save 
thee.  It  IB  not,  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us,  wiil  do  thee  good. 
It  is  not  coming  constantly  to  church.  These  are  easy  matter*. 
But  il  is  a  lough  work,  a  wonderful  hard  matter,  to  be  saved. 
(1  Pel.  iv.  18.)  Hence  the  way  to  heaven  is  compared  to  a 
race,  where  a  man  must  put  forth  all  his  strength,  and  stretch 
every  limb,  and  all  lo  get  forward.  Hence  a  Christian's  life  ia 
compared  to  wrestling.  (Eph.  vi.  13.)  All  the  policy  and 
power  of  hell  buckle  together  against  a  Christian ;  therefor* 
he  must  look  to  himself,  or  else  he  falls.     Hence  it  is  compared 

\tii  fighting.  (2  Tim,  iv.  7.)  A  man  must  fight  againBt_the  dejji, 
the  world,  himself,  who  shoot  poisoned  bullets  In  ttie  soul,  wtera 
a  man  must  kill  or  be  killed.  God  hath  not  lined  the  way  to 
Christ  with  velvet,  nor  strewed  it  with  rushes.  He  will  nevee 
feed  a  slothful  humor  in  man,  who  will  be  saved  if  Christ  and 
heaven  would  drop  into  their  mouths,  and  if  any  would  bear  their- 
charges  thither.  If  Christ  might  be  bought  for  a  few  'cold 
wishes  and  lazy  desires,  he  would  be  of  small  reckoning  amongst 
men,  who  would  say.  Lightly  come,  lightly  go.  Indeed,  Chilsft 
^oke  ii  easy  in  itself;  and  when  a  man  is  got  into  Christ,  noth-' 
ing  is  so  sweet :  but  for  a  camal,  dull  heart,  it  is  hard  to  draw' 
iaiti  for 

^  There  are  four  strait  gates  which  every  one  must  pass  throii{ 
before  he  can  enter  into  beaven.J 
~t  I.  There  is  the  strait  gate  ef  humiliation.    God  eaveth  d« 


THK   StXCERK   COKVItRT. 

but  first  he  liumbleth  them.  Now,  it  is  hard  to  pofis  throii 
the  gates  and  6)inies  of  licll ;  for  n  heart  as  siilF  as  a  stake 
bow  ;  as  hard  a.i  a  stone  to  bleed  for  the  leiut  prick ;  not 

mourn  for  one  ein,  but  all  sins  ;  and  not  fur  a  lit,  but  all  a  n 

lifetime.  O,  it  is  hard  for  a  inaD  to  suffer  hiioself  to  be  louUen'iC!] 
with  sin.  and  pressed  to  death  for  sin,  ao  as  never  to  love  sin 
aon,  but1o~spit  in  the  fhce  oi  that  which  he  once  loved  aa 
dearlj  as  bis  life.  It  is  Ditfj  to  drop  a  tuar  or  two,  and  be  ser-  ' 
mon  aick  ;  but  to  hnve  a  heart  rent  for  sin  and  from  ain,  this  is 
true  humilitalion  ;  and  this  is  liard. 

2.  The  atrait  gate  of  faitli.  (Eph.  i.  19.)  It  is  an  easy  raatterN 
lo  presume,  but  Kard  to  believe  in  Christ.  It  is  easy  for  a  man 
that  was  never  humbled  to  believe  and  say.  It  is  hut  believ- 
ing; but  it  is  a  hard  matter  for  a  man  humbled,  when  he  see* 
all  hia  sina  in  order  before  him,  the  devil  and  conscience  roaring 
upon  him,  and  crying  out  against  him,  and  Giod  frowning  u|>on 
him,  now  to  cnll  God  Fatlier,  is  a  hard  work.  Judas  had  ralhcr 
be  hanged  than  believe.  It  is  hard  to  aec  a  Christ  aa  a  rock  to 
stand  upon,  when  we  are  overwhelmed  with  sorrow  of  heart  for 
Bin.  It  is  hard  to  prize  Christ  above  len  thousand  worlds  of 
pearl ;  it  ia  hard  to  desire  Ciirist,  and  nothing  but  Christ ;  hard 
to  follow  Christ  all  the  day  long,  and  never  to  be  quiet  till  he  it 
got  in  thine  arras,  am)  then  with  Simeon  to  say,  ''  Lord, 
letlest  thou  thy  servant  de|iHrt  in  peace." 

3.  Tlie  atrait  gate  of  repentance.     It  is  an  easy  matter 
man  to  confess  Limaell  to  be  a  Siflnn',  and  to  cry  to  God  forgive- 
ness until  next  time  ;  but  to  have  a  bitter  sorrow,  and  so  to  turn 
from  all  sin,  and  to  return  to  God,  and  alllbe^  ways  of  God,  whiub 
is  true  repentance  indeed,  this  is  hard. 

i.  The  strait  gale  of  opposititin  of  devils,  the  W9rlil,  nnd  a. 
man's  own  self,  who  knock  a  man  down  when  he  begins  to  look 
lowara  ' 


jr 
)f 

i 

■n   m 
±     ■ 


^^HsI  and  hi 
i/tRarn.  tha 


y  easy  way  to  heaven  is  a  false  ti 
kllhough  ministers  should  preach  it  < 


e  way,  1 
t  of   their  pulpits,  atkd 
angels  should  publish  it  out  of  heaven. 

Now,  there  are  nine  easy  ways  to  heaven,  (us  men  think,)  alt 
which  lead  tc 

1.  Tlie  common  broad  waji  wherein  &  whole  parish  may  all  go 
tbre«<lth  In  it;  tell  iliese  people  thf^y  shall  be  damned,  their 
answer  i-i,  Then  woe  to  many  more  besides  me. 

2,  The  wiiy  of  civil  education,  whereby  many  n 
by  little  anil  little  tiimed,  and  like  wolves  are  chained  up  easily  ' 


yuung. 
■  way  of  good  wishes,  whereby  many  people 


wiU 


S6 


Confena  their  ignonince,  forgetlulness,  and  ihat  they  a 

such  showa  as  oihera  do,  but  tbcy  iliant  God  th^iVji 

gw)d,  «nd  "God    for  Lis  pnrt   atcepls  (w»y  t~ 

tlie  JKcd.     And,  *"  My  son,  give  me  thy  huari ;  "  the  heart  'u 

in  all,  and  so  long  they  hopi^i  to  do  well  enough.     Poor  deluded   ( 

i  creatures  Hum  think  to  break    through  annjed  of  sins,  devil^    { 
temptations,  and  to  break  open  llie  very  gales  of  heaven  witl 
titvr  good  wishes  ;  they  think   to  come  to  their  Journey's  e 
without  legs,  becRiise  their  hearts  are  good  lo  God. 

4.  The   way  of  formality,  wlierebv  men  rest  in  tlie  perfor 


ofmnatorofalle; 


^^ 


?inigm~ 


ard  life.  JMarT 


i.  14.)  livery  man  mu«t  liave  some  religion,  some  fig  leai 
hide  their  nakedness.  Now,  this  religion  must  be  either  true 
religion  or  Ihc  faJse  one  ;  if  the  true,  he  must  either  take  up  the 
power  of  il,  —  but  Ihat  he  will  not,  because  it  is  burdensome, — or 
the  form  of  ii :  and  ihie  being  easy,  men  embrace  it  as  their  God, 
and  will  rather  lose  iheir  lives  than  ibeir  religion  thus  taken  up. 
—^Thig  foi-m  of  religi""  i°  [he  easiest  religion  in  the  world  ;  jartlr 
beaiujfi_itjegsetb  men  of  trouble  of  conscience,  (^uJQling  tUat  i 

book,  and  pray,  keep  thy  conscience  better,  and  bring  thy  Bible 
with  ihce;  now,  conscience  is  silent,  being  charmed  down  with 
Jhe  form  of  religion,  at  the  devil  ia  driven  away  (as  they  say) 
'  with  holy  water;  partly,  also,  because  the  form  of  religion  credit! 
a  man,  partly  bccauae  it  is  easy  in  itself;  it  is  of  a  light  carriage, 
buing  but  the  shadow  and  picture  of  the  substance  of  religion ; 
ns  DOW,  what  an  easy  matter  it  is  to  come  to  church  I  They  hear 
(at  least  outwardly)  very  attentively  an  hour  and  more,  and  then 
to  turn  to  a  proof,  and  lo  turn  down  a  leaf:  here  is  the  form,* 
But  now  to  spend  Saturday  night,  and  all  the  whole  Sahbatli 
day  morning,  in  trimming  the  lump,  and  in  getting  oil  in  the  heart 
to  meet  the  bridegroom  the  next  day,  and  so  meet  him  in  the 
word,  and  there  to  tremble  at  the  voice  of  God,  and  suck  the 
,  breast  while  it  is  open  ;  and/when  the  word  is  done,  V go  aside 
'  privately,  and  there  ^  chew  upon  the  word,  there  t*. lament  with 
tears  all  the  vain  thoughts  \a  duties,  deadnesa  in  hearingyihis  is 
hard,  because  this  is  tlie  )iower  of  godliness,  and  this  nen  will 
not  take  up  :  so  for  private  prayer ;  what  an  easy  matter  is  it 
for  a  man  to  say  over  a  few  prayers  out  of  some  devout  book,  or 
lo  repeat  some  old  prayer,  got  by  heart  since  a  child,  or  to  have 
two  or  three  short-winded  wishes  for  God's  roercy  in  the  morning 
and  at  night  I  this  form  is  easy.  But  now  to  prepare  the  heart 
by  serious  meditation  of  God  and  man's  self,  before  he  pray^ 
then  t«  oome  lo  God  with  a  bleeding,  hunger-ttorved  heart,  DOt 


THK   eCtCEBE   CONTKKT. 


only  with  a  desire,  but  with  a  warrmnt,  I  must  have  such  or  such 
a  mercy,  aud  there  to  wrestle  with  God.  ahhongh  it  be  an  hour 
or  two  together  for  a  blessing,  litis  is  too  hard  ;  men  think  n 
do  ihng,  and  therefore  they  will  not. 


their 


Fifthly,     The  way  of  preaumpti on.  whereby  men,  barinp  geen 
eir  sins,  catcib  hold  easily  upon  (jod'g  mercy,  and  gnfttco  com- 


Torlg  hefore  they  are  reached  c— 
«f  comfort,  in  the  book  of  Uod, 


unto  Iher 


mere  id  no  word 


I 


lued  tor  such  ua  regard  ii 
quity  in  their  hearts,  though  ibey  do  not  act  il  in  their  hvea.  Their 
only  comfort  Is,  that  the  sentence  of  damnalion  is  not  yet  exe- 
«Bied  upon  tbem. 

Sixthly.  The  way  of  slotb,  thereby  men  lie  Btill.  and  aav. 
God  must  do~a11.  II  ihe  Lord  would  set  up  a  pulpit  at  the  ale- 
house door,  It  may  be  they  would  bear  oflener.  If  Grod  will  always 
thunder,  they  will  always  pray  ;  if  strike  them  now  and  then 
with  sickness,  God  shall  be  paid  with  good  words  and  promi&ea 
enough,  thai  ihej  nill  be  better  if  thej  liye ;  but,  as  long  as 
peace  lasts,  ihey  will  run  to  hell  as  fa^t  as  they  can ;  and,  if  God 
will  not  catch  ihem,  they  care  not,  they  will  not  return. 

Serentblr.  The  way  of  carelessness,  when  men,  feeling  many 
difficulties,  pass  through  some  of  incm,  but  not  all,  and  what  they 
can  not  get  now,  ihey  feed  themselves  with  a  false  hope  Ihey 
■hall  hereafter;  they  are  content  to  be  called  pfecisians,  and 
foob,  and  craiy  brains,  but  they  want  broke nnegg  of  heart,  and  ■, 
'  they  will  pray  (it  may  beJTcirltriuiJ^ass  by  itat  JTffieuIly ;  but 
to  keep  die  wound  always  open,  this  they  will  not  do ;  to  be 
dway*  sighing  for  help,  and  never  to  give  themselves  rest  till 
their  hearts  are  humbled,  that  they  will  not ;  "  These  have  a 
name  lo  live,  yet  are  dead." 

Eighthly.  The  way  of  moderation,  or  hnngflt  jjafrctinn^  (Rev. 
^iil.  16,)  wbicli,  mdeed,  is  notmng  but  lukewarmnesa  of  the  soul  jV** 
and  that  is,  VMtt  a  man  contrives,  and  cuts  out  such  a  way  to 
heaven  as  he  may  be  hated  of  none,  but  please  all,  and  so  do 
any  thing  for  a  quiet  life,  and  so  sleep  in  a  whole  skin.  Tlia 
Lord  saith.  "  He  that  will  live  godly  must  suffer  persecolion," 
Ho,  not  so.  Lord.  Surely,  (think  they,)  if  men  were  discreet  and 
wise,  it  would  prevent  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and  oppoMtion  in 
good  courses ;  this  man  will  commend  liiose  that  are  most  xeal- 
ous.  if  they  were  but  wise  ;  if  he  meet  with  a  black-mouthed 
swearer,  he  will  not  reprove  him,  lest  he  be  displeased  with  him ; 
if  be  meet  with  an  honest  man,  he  will  yield  to  all  he  saith,  that 
•o  he  may  commend  him ;  and  when  he  meets  them  both  to- 
gether, they  shall  be  both  alike  welcome  (whatever  he  thinks) 
lo  his  house  and  table,  because  he  would  fain  b«  at  peace  witb 


r> 


Ninthly,  and  liiftlj.  The  way  of  self-love,  whereby  a  man, 
fearing  terribly  lie  shall  be  damned,  useih  diligently  all  meaof 
whereby  he  shall  be  saved.  Here  is  the  strongest  difficulty  of 
all,  lo  row  against  the  stream,  and  to  hale  a  man's  self,  and  iben 
to  follow  Christ  fully. 

I  come  now  to  the  sixth  general  head,  proposed  in  order  to  bt 
considered. 


CHAPTER   VI. 


THAT  THE  pRANg.  CAUSE  OF 
HAHV  ARE  OjMJtairWP  3< 
^   TUEHS  ELVES. 

"  Wht  win  ye  die  ?  "  (Ezek.xxxiii.il.)  The  great  cause  why 
so  many  people  die,  and  perish  everlastingly,  is  because  tbey 
will ;  every  man  that  perisheth  is  his  own  butcherer  or  mur- 
derer. (Matt.  xxii.  27.  Hosea  is.)  This  is  the  point  we  propose 
to  prosecute  at  present. 

Qurttioti,  The  question  here  will  be,  how  men  plot  and  per- 
fect their  owa  ruin. 

Antwer.  By  these  four  principal  means,  which  are  the  four 
great  rocks  that  most  men  are  split  upon ;  and  great  necessity 
lieth  upon  every  man  to  know  them ;  for  when  a  powder  plot  is 
discovered,  the  danger  is  almost  past.  I  say,  (here  are  these  four 
causes  of  man's  eternal  overthrow,  which  I  shall  handle  largely, 
and  make  use  of  every  particular  reason,  M'hen  it  is  open  and 


»j  First.  Bj_rpaiu>n  r,f  jjjgx  bloody  bUi:k  ignnranco  of  men, 
whereby  thousands  remam  wofully  ignorant  of  Iheir  spiritual 
estate,  not  knowing  how  the  case  stands  between  God  and  their 
Boula,  hut  thinking  themselves  to  be  well  enough  already,  they 
never  seek  to  come  out  of  their  misery  till  they  perish  in  iL 
,  Secondly.  By  rea.'^np  nf  ttihti's  carnal  security,  putting  ihB 
evil  day  from  them,  whereby  they  (eel  not  tneir  teanul  ihralldom, 
and  so  never  groan  to  come  out  of  the  slavish  bondage  of  sin  and 

^  Thirdly.  By  reason  of  man'a  carnal  confidence,  whereby  they 
shift  lo  save  tliemselvea  by  their  own  dunes  and'  performances, 
when  they  feel  ii.  ' 

-.   Fouribly.     ^y  rpaaon  of  man's  bold  presumption,  whereby  ■ 
men  scramble  lo  save  ibemsejves  by  their  own  seeming  faith, 
when  they  see  an  inaulficieney  in  duties,  and  an  unworihinfiH"**^ 
them^olvus  for  Gud  lo  save  them. 


THE  SINCERE  CONTEST. 

I  trill  begin  with  the  flrat  renaoa,  and  discover  the  ' 
whereby  men  blow  up  themselves,  which  is  this:  tl 

ool  this  misery,  nor  thai  fearful,  af cii tsalt JalflTB Btot 

l\u-y  lie,  biit  'tmnk  \ni  eay'Hte.y  aliall  do  as  well  as  otiiers;  and 
IhereTorc,  when  any  friend  persuaJeth  theni  to  come  out  of  it,  and 
thows  them  the  danger  of  remaining  in  such  a  condition,  what  ia 
their  tnawer  ?  I  pray  you  save  your  breath  to  cool  your  broth. 
Every  vat  shatl  stand  on  liis  own  bottom.  Let  me  alone ;  I  hope 
I  have  a  eoul  to  save  as  well  aa  you,  and  shall  be  as  careful  of 
it  as  you  shall  or  can  be.  You  shall  not  answer  for  my  eouL 
I  hope  I  shall  do  as  well  as  (he  precisest  of  you  all. 

Hence,  likewiM,  if  the  minister  come  home  to  llicm,  tliey  go 
home  with  hearts  full  of  outeriej  against  the  man,  and  their 
tongue  dipped  in  gall  against  the  sermon.  God  be  merciful  unto 
ns  if  all  ibis  be  true !  Here's  harsh  doctrine  enough  to  make 
a  man  run  out  of  his  wit«,  and  to  drive  me  to  despair.  Thus 
they  know  not  their  misery,  and  not  knowing,  (ihey  are  lost. and 
condemned  creatures  under  the  everlasting  wrath  of  God,)  they 
never  seek,  pray,  strive,  or  follow  the  means  whereby  they  may 
come  out  of  it,  and  so  perish  in  it,  and  never  know  it  till  they 
-«wake  with  the  flames  of  hell  about  their  ears.  They  will 
acknowledge,  indeed,  many  of  them,  that  all  men  are  bora  in  m,  j^ 
most  miserable  estate ;  but  they  never  apply  particularly  thatv 
general  truth  to  themselve~i,  saying,  I  am  the  man  ;  I  am  now 
under  God's  wrath,  and  may  be  snatched  away  by  death  ever; 
bour;  and  then  I  am  undone  and  lost  forever. 

Now,  there  are  two  sorts  of  people  that  are  ignorant  of  this 
their  misery. 

First.     The  eommon  sort  of  profane,  blockish,  ignorant  people.^ 

Secondly.     The  finer  sort  of  unsound,  hollow  professors,  that  '^ 
liavo  A  [in«fiM-jf,'s  pride,  that  think  themselves  fair  and  in  very 
good  estate,  though  they  have  but  one  feather  on  their  crest  to 
boost  of. 

I  will  begin  with  the  first  sort,  and  show  you  the  reasons  why 
they  are  ignorant  of  their  misery;  that  in,  for  these  four  reasons: — 

First.  Sometimes  because  tliey  want  the  saving  meatis  of" 
knowledge.  There  Is  no  faithTiiTTninister,  no  compassionate 
Lot,  to  tell  them  of  tire  and  brimstone  from  heaven  for  their 
crying  ains ;  there  is  no  Noah  to  forewarn  them  of  a  flood ;  there 
u  DO  messenger  to  bring  them  tidings  of  those  armies  of  God't 
devouring  plagues  and  wrath  that  are  approaching  near  unto 
them  !  they  have  no  pilot  —  poor  forsaken  creatures  —  to  show 
theu  their  rock ;  they  have  either  no  minister  at  all  to  teach 
IbeiB,  either  becaiue  the  parish  is  t4xi  poor,  or  the  church  Uvitig 


J 


70  THE    BlNCEiiE    COKVBWt, 

Itoo  great  to  nuuntain  a  failhful  man,  (ihe  strongest  asses  carrjingr 
the  greatest  burdeos  commonly.)  O,  woful  pbjaiciuns  !  Som»- 
times  lliey  be  profane,  and  can  not  beai  themfielves ;  and  M)iti«- 
timcB  they  be  iguonint,  and  know  not  what  lo  preaeb,  anWu  ibey 
ahould  luUow  the  st«ps  of  Mr.  Latimer's  Frier ;  or,  at  Ike  beat, 
they  shoot  off  a  few  popguns  against  grofts  sins ;  or  if  they  do  eliow 
men  their  misery,  they  licit  them  whole  agaiD  with  some  cotn- 
fortable,  ill-applied  sentences,  (but  I  hope  belter  tlungs  of  yon^ 
my  brethren,)  the  man's  patron  mny  haply  alorm  else.  Or 
else  they  say  commonly.  Thou  hast  sinned  ;  comfort  thyself,  but 
despair  not;  Christ  hath  suffered;  and  thus  «kin  over  the  wound, 
sad  let  it  fester  within,  for  want  of  cutting  it  deeper.  I  say, 
therefore,  because  they  want  a  fiuthful  watchman  to  cry,  Fir^ 
,  fire,  in  that  sleepy  estate  of  sin  and  darkness  wherein  they  li^ 
therefore  whole  towns,  parishes,  generations  of  men  are  burnt 
up,  and  perish  miserably.  (Lam.  ii.  14.) 

Secondly.     B'^-ftpap  |bey  have  no  leisure  to  consider  of  their 


miser^wlien  ttiey  have  the  means  of 
FeIi]cr(AcU  xxiv.  25.)     Many  a 


Onen 


unto  tbec 
hath  many  a  bitter  pill 
)t  a  sermon,  but  lie  bath  no  leisure  to  chew  upon  iL 
taken  up  with  suits  in  law,  and  another  almost  ealea 
up  witii  suretyship,  and  corking  cares  how  lo  pay  his  debts,  and  { 
provide  for  his  own  ;  another  hath  a  great  charge  and  few  friends, 
and  be  saith  the  world  is  hard,  and  heni^e,  Uke  a  mole,  roots  ia 
the  earth,  week  days  and  Sabbath  days.  The  world  thus  calling 
them  on  one  side,  and  lusts  on  another,  and  the  devil  on  the 
other  aide,  they  have  no  leisure  to  consider  of  death,  devil,  God,  j 
nor  themselves,  hell,  nor  heaven.  The  minister  cries  and  knocks 
without,  but  there  is  such  a  noise  and  luml>er  of  tumultuous 
lusts  and  vain  thoughts  in  theii'  hearts  and  heads,  that  all  good 
thouglits  are  sad,  unwelcome  guests,  and  are  Itnocked  dowH 
presently. 

Tiiinliy.     Because,  if  they  have   leisure,  ihey  are  afnkid  to 

and  will  hear  .them  no  more,  and  they  will  not  hv  such  tools  aa 
to  believe  all  that  such  say :  the  reason  is,  ihey  are  afraid  lo 
know  the  worst  of  themselves  ;  they  are  afraid  to  be  cut,  and 
therefore  can  not  endure  thechirurgeon;  they  think  to  be  troubled 
in  mind,  ua  others  are,  is  the  very  high  rood  to  despair ;  and 
therefore,  if  they  do  hear  a  tale,  how  one,  after  hearing  of  a  ser- 
mon, grew  distracted,  or  drowned  or  hanged  himself,  it  shall  be 
an  item  and  a  warning  to  them  as  long  as  they  live,  for  troubling 
their  hearts  about  eucb  mailers.  Men  of  [niilty  enaBcieium^ 
(hence)  fly  from  the  face  of  God,  as  prisonerT  irom  the  judge,  as     _ 


debtors  from  the  creditor.  But  if  the  Lord  of  hosts  can  catch 
you,  yon  must  and  shall  feel  with  horror  of  heart  (hat  which  you  . 
tear  a  little  now.  ^     i 

Fourthly.    Becauge.  if  ther  be  free  from  this  foflljah  fear,^  Ui^ 
^ai^StTel^nei^m'aery,  py  reaaon  that  tKey  look  upon  their 
'^Rtea  throueh  lalse  glasses,  and  by  virtue  ni  many  fatu^  nf'  ^' 
pWl  W  Iheir  minda.  tliey  cheat  tlieinscirea. 
— ^  hich  laise  principled  are  tuese  principally  ;  I  will  hut  name 

First.  They  conceive  God,  that  made  them,  will  not  be  bo 
cruel  as  lo  damn  them. 

Secondly.  Becuuse  they  feel  no  misery,  (but  are  very  well,) 
liter* fore  they  fear  none. 

Thirdly.  Because  God  blcsselh  them  in  their  outward  estates, 
in  their  com.  children,  calling,  friends,  Ice,  would  God  bleas  them 
80,  if  he  did  not  love  them? 

Fourthly.  Because  they  think  sin  lobe  no  great  evil, — for  all 
arc  sinners,  —  so  this  can  not  mischief  them. 

Fifthly.     Because  they  think  God's  mercy  is  above  all  his 
works,  though  sin  be  vile,  yet  conceiving  God  to  be  all  mercy, 
I      All  honey,  and  no  justice,  they  think  they  are  well. 

Sixthly.  Because  they  think  Christ  died  for  all  sinners,  and 
tliey  confess  themselves  to  be  great  ones. 

Seventhly.  Because  they  hope  well,  and  eo  think  to  have 
well. 

Eighthly.  Because  they  do  as  most  do,  who,  never  crying  out 
of  their  sins  while  ihey  lived,  and  dying  like  Inmbs  at  la^t,  they 
doubt  not,  for  their  parts,  but,  doing  as  such  do,  they  shall  dio 
bappily,  as  others  have  done. 

Ninthly.  Because  their  desires  and  hearts  are  good,  w  thej 
diink.  jm 

Tenthly.     Because  they  do  as  well  as  God  will  give  them  \i^ 
grace,  and  so  God  is  in  the  fault  only  if  they  perish.  '' 

These  are  the  reasons  and  grounds  upon  which  profane  peo- 
ijie  are  deceived. 

"       it  foUoweth  to  show  the  grounds  on  which  the  finer  eo^ 

Hollow   professors    cheat   and   cozen  their  own 

It  it  in  our  church  as  it  is  in  an  old  wood,  where  there 

Hiy  tall  trees;  yet  cut  ihem  and  search  thcm'decply,  they 

S'~    tove  pithless,  ssplesx.  hollotv,  unsound  creatures.     These  men 
rUt  their  own  ruin  with  a  finer  thread,  and  can  juggle  better 
^than  the  common  sort,  and  cast  mists  l>efore  their  own  eyes,  and 
I  their  own  souls.     It  is  a  ministers  first  work  to  turn 


U; 


It  TBB   SIROEBB   COKTSBT. 


EKn  from   darkness  into  tbis  light,  (Acts  ixvi.  16,)  and  t 

I  Spirit's  first  work  to  convince  men  of  sin.  (John  xvi.  9.)  And 
therefore  it  is  people's  main  work  lo  know  the  worst  at  first  of 
themselves. 

Kow,  the  cause  of  these  men's  mistaking  is  tlireefold. 

Firat  The  spiritual  madness  and  drunkenness  of  their  un- 
derstanding. 

Seeondly.  The  false,  bastard  peace  begot  and  nourisLed  in  the 
conscience. 

Thirdly.     The  sly  and  secret  distempers  of  the  will. 

First.  There  are  these  seven  drunken  distempers  in  the 
nnderslanding  or  mind  of  man,  whereby  he  cometh  to  be  most 
miserably  deceived-^ 

First.  The  understanding's  arrog^uji^.  You  shall  never  see 
a  mao  mean  and  vile  In  his  tJwn  eyes,  deceived,  (Fs.  xxv.  9 ;) 
but  a  proud  man  or  woman  is  often  cheated.  Hence  proud  Ha- 
man  thought  surely  he  was  the  man  whom  tlie  king  would  honor, 
when,  in  truth,  it  was  intended  for  poor  Mordecai.  For  pride 
having  once  overspread  the  mind,  it  ever  hath  this  property  —  il 
mokes  a  penny  sttuid  for  a  pound,  a  spark  is  blown  up  to  a  flame, 
it  makes  a  great  matter  of  a  little  seeming  grace ;  and  therefore 
the  proud  Pharisee,  when  he  cnme  to  reckon  with  himself,  he 
takes  his  poor  counter, — thuL  is,  "I  am  not  as  other  men,  nor  as 
this  publican," —  and  sets  it  down  for  one  thousand  pounds ;  that  is, 
he  esteems  of  himself  as  a  very  rich  man  for  it ;  so  many  a 
man,  because  he  hath  some  good  thing  in  himself,  as  he  is  pitiful  to 
the  poor,  he  Is  a.  true  man  tiiough  a  [loor  man ;  he  was  never 
given  to  wine  or  women ;  he  magnificth  Itimeelf  for  this  title, 
and  so  deceives  and  overreckona  himself.  There  are  your 
Bristow  stones  like  diamonds,  and  many  cheaters  cozen  country 
folks  with  Ibcm  that  desire  to  be  line,  and  know  not  what  dia- 
monds are  ;  so  many  men  are  desirous  to  be  honest,  and  to  be 
reputed  so,  not  kuowing  what  true  grace  means.  Therefore 
Bpstow  stones  are  pearls  in  their  eyes.  A  little  seeming  grace 
shines  so  bright  in  their  eyes,  that  they  are  half  bewitched  by  it 
to  think  Lighly  of  themselves,  although  they  be  but  glittering, 
seeming  jewels  in  a  swine's  snout.  A  cab  of  doves'  dung  was 
■old  in  Samaria's  time  of  famine  at  a  great  rate ;  a  man  living 
ia  such  a  placCj  where  all  about  him  are  either  ignorant,  or  pro- 
M^UW,  or  civil,  a  little  moral  honesty  (dung  in  respect  of  true 
IfRBQe)  goes  a  great  way,  and  is  esteemed  highly  of,  and  he  is  as 
(nesl  a  man  as  ever  lived.  To  a  man  that  looks  through  a  red 
I  glaes,  all  things  appear  red  i  a  man  looking  upon  himself  through 
.  Mme  fair  spectacles,  through  some  one  gtwd  thing  which  he  bath 


THB   SINCERB    CONTKRT.  73 

in  himself. appears  f&irtohim.  Itia  said,  (Lukexx.  ult,,)  "The 
Pharisees  devoured  widows'  houses.  Might  not  this  racking  of< 
rents  make  them  question  their  estates?  No.  Why?  They 
for  prelense  made  tong  prayers  t  so  many  nen  are  drunk  now 
and  ihen,  but  they  are  »)rry  ;  they  can  not  but  sin,  but  their  de- 
sires are  good ;  Ihey  talk  idly,  but  (hey  live  honestly  ;  they  do  ill 
sometimes,  but  they  mean  well.  Tlius,  when  some  good  things 
«re  seen  in  themselves,  pride  puffs  them  up  with  an  overweening 
Qonreit  of  it,  and  so  Ihey  cozen  their  souls. 

Secondly.  I^he  understanding's  obstinacy ;  whereby  the  mind, 
having  been  long~ro(TrSd  in  IbtS  upiitluil.'th'Srl  aitiih  a  good"" 
estate,  will  not  suffer  this  conceit  to  be  plucked  out  of  il.  Now, 
your  old  rooted,  yet  rotten  professors,  having  grown  long  in  a 
good  conceit  of  themselves,  will  not  believe  that  tbey  have  been 
fools  all  their  lifetime,  and  therefore  now  must  pull  down  and 
lay  the  foundation  agtun  ;  and  hence  you  shall  have  many  say 
of  a  faithful  minister,  that  doih  convince  and  condemn  them  and 
their  estate  la  be  most  woful,  What  shall  such  an  upstart  teach 
nc?  Doth  he  think  to  make  me  dance  after  his  pipe,  and  to  think 
that  all  my  good  prayers,  my  faith,  my  charity,  have  been  so 
long  abominuble  and  vile  before  God  ?  No  silver  can  bribe  a 
inan  to  cast  away  hi«  ohl  traditional  opinions  and  conceits,  wher^ 
by  he  cheats  himself,  till  Christ's  bhiod  do  it.  (1  PeL  i.  18.) 
And  hence  the  woman  of  Samaria  objected  this  against  Jesus 
Christ,  that  their  old  ''  fathers  worshiped  in  that  mountain,"  and 
therefore  it  wan  as  good  a  plitce  as  Jerusalem,  the  place  of  God's 
true  worohip.  (John  iv.  20.)  Slen  grow  rntoked  and  aged  wiili  \ 
if  themselves.  ^lSt3SIirRtd(ini  "pr  never  be  aet  ' 


■  a^ralahi  aggin._  Hence  suctTltind  of  people,  though  they  vrould^ 
..sun  be  laacn  I'or'honest,  religious  Christians,  yet  will  never  sus- 
pect their  estates  to  be  bad  ihems^elves,  neither  can  they  endure 
that  any  other  should  search  or  suspect  tbero  to  be  yet  rotten  at 
(he  heart :  and  are  not  those  wave*  and  commodities  much  to  be 
•uspected.  nay,  conriudcd  to  be  stark  naught,  which  the  seller 
inll  needs  put  u|K>n  the  chapman  without  peeing  or  looking  on 
lliem  lirst?  It  is  a  strong  argument  we  produce  against  the 
Papist's  religion  to  be  suspected  to  be  had,  beciiuse  ihcy  obtru4e 
their  opinions  on  their  followers,  to  be  believed  without  any 
besilation  or  dispute  about  them,  either  before  ur  after  they  have 
einbractfd  ihem :  certainly  thy  old  taitli.  thy  old  prayers,  thy  old 
boiienly.  or  form  of  piety,  are  counterfeit  wares,  that  can  tMl 
CIKlure  searching;  because  ihou  wilt  not  be  driven  from  this 
ODnceil,  I  am  in  a  good  estate,  I  have  been  so  long  of  this  good 
'■indi  and  therefore  will  not  begin  to  doubt  now.     It  is  to  ba 


74  THE   SISCEBK   CONTEKT. 

feuroii  ihiil  stidi  kind  of  people,  na  I  bavc  miri'li  ubbervuil,  are.*1 
eitli<:r  notoriousl)'  igaorant,  or  have  «iiiie  time  or  oilier  fiillen  into 
eome  horrible  secret,  grievous  sins,  as  whoredom,  opiiression,  or 
the  like,  rhe  guilt  of  which,  Ijing  jet  secretly  on  them,  m^cd 
them  Sy  from  the  light  of  God's  truth,  which  should  find  them  out, 
quarreling  boti)  against  it  and  the  ministers  that  preuch  it.  (Rom. 
ii.  8.)  And  therefore,  as  it  is  with  thieves  when  ihey  have  any 
stolen  goods  brought  within  doors,  tLcy  w31  uot  be  eearclied  or 
BUspeclcd,  but  say,  they  are  as  honest  men  as  themselves  lliat  come 
to  search ;  for  they  fear,  if  they  be  found  out,  that  they  shall  he 
troubled  before  the  judge,  and  may  -hardly  escape  with  their 
lives  :^o  many  old  professors,  when  the  minister  comes  to  search 
them,  thuy  clap  to  the  doors  upon  the  mnn  nnd  (ruth  too,  and 
say,  they  hope  to  be  saved  a^  well  as  the  best  of  ihem  all :  the 
reason  is,  thiey  ace  fiuiltjX-lltfiy-"*  loiJt-to  ItaJronMail^nd  cast 
down  by  seeing  the  worst  of  themselves,  and  think  it  is  hard  for 
tbom  10  go  10  lieav^tTiAd  be  saved,  if  tliey  have  been  in  a  wrong 
wny  all  their  lifetime.  An  bonost  heart  will  cry  ailer  the  best 
means,  "  Lord,  search  me,"  (John  iii.  20,)  and  open  all  tlie 
doors  to  the  entertainment  of  the  straitest,  strictest  truths. 
Thirdly.  The  understanding's  obscurity,  or  ignorance  of  the 
I  infinite  exactness,  glorious  purity,  and  absolute  perfection  of  the 
^law  of  Gad ;  whence  it  comeih  to  pass  that  this  burning  lamp, 
■  ^^W  bright  "sun  of  God's  law,  being,  set  and  obscured  in  their 
minds,  rotten  glowworms  of  their  own  righteousness,  doing 
Bome  things  according  to  the  law  of  God,  shinee  and  glislera 
^riously  in  their  eyes,  in  the  dark  nighttime  of  dlsmid  dark- 
ness, by  doing  of  wliieh  they  think  to  please  God,  and  their 
eaUttes  are  very  good.  "  I  was  alive,"  saith  Paul,  (Rom.  vii.  i),) 
"  without  the  law ; "  and  he  gives  ibo  reason  of  it,  because  sin  did 
but  sleep  iu  hun,  like  a  cutthroat  in  a  house  where  all  Is  quiet. 
Before  the  law  came,  he  saw  not  lliat  deadly  secret  score  of  aoiCi 
ruption,  and  that  liller  of  rebellion  that  was  lurking  in  his  ht 
and  tlierctbrc  thought  highly  of  himself  for  bis  own  righlei 

The  gospel  is  a  glnas  to  show  men  tlie  face  of  God  |  

,  (a  (jor.  ii.  nit.)  I'lie  law  is  that  glass  tbat  ehoweUi  a 
is  own  face,  and  what  he  himself  is.  Now,  if  (his  glass 
be  Uken  away,  and  not  set  before  a  deformed  heart,  how  can  a 
I  man  but  think  himself  fair?     And  this  is  the  reason  why  civil 

Linen,  fbrmahsljijjnioBt  every  one,  think  belter  of  themselves 
than  initeeiTthey  arc,  because  tliey  reciion  without  their  host ; 
that  is,  ihey  judge  of  the  number,  nature,  and  gi-eatne^  of  their 
sins  by  iheir  own    books,  by  their  own   reason ;  they-  look  not  . 
God's  debt  book.  Uotl's  exact  laws  over,  and  coni[>are  themselv^M 


TTIB   SINCERK    CONVERT.  75 

iwllli:  if  [hey  iliU.  it  woulii  ttmaKe  llic  stoutest  heart,  and 
.'ptu'-'k  down  men's  pliimtfi,  anil  tnake  thtirn  saj.  Is  [lititi  aaj 
mcrcj'  m  greal  as  lo  pii*a  by  sucli  sins,  and  to  put  up  such 
virongi,  lutd  lo  for^ve  such  sins  and  debu,  one  of  iviiich  nlone 
luiiv  uiiila  luc,  much  mori*  so  many  ? 

Kuurihly. ,  Tlio  un  Jerslanding's  security  or  sleepiness,  wherehj 
men  novpr  reflect  upon  their  own  actions,  nor  coro|iarc  them  with 
the  rule  ;  although  tbev  have  knowledge  of  Ihe  law  of  God,  y«t  V 
""  "a  with  ^cni  as  it  is  witli  men  that  have  a  fair  plaw  before  , 

m.  but  never  iH^holjini;  lliemseiven  in  the  plassj  ihcy  nuver 
ipTDi^ir  j^i,.rj  Tti*  IS  iBo  woe  of  ntost  iinregprie'rale  men^  lhT*y  ,' 
wain  a  '"^iJ^^liil'S.  pf"""''-  "ii'l  ligl't  to  jiulge  of  Ihemaclreg  bvxj  ■ 
(Jer.  viii.  li.j  Vou  shiill  have  them  ihiiik  on  a  sermon.  Here  13 
far  Bueh  a  odo,  and  sut'h  a  one  i»  lout:lied  here;  when  it  may  be 
the  uim«  sermon  prjnuiiwlly  apeoka  of  iliem;  but  they  nuver 
Bay,  This  eone^raelh  uie ;  I  naa  found  out  through  the  goodDess 
•f  the  Lord  lo-dar.  and  surely  ihc  mnn  spake  unto  non«  hut  oilto 
me,  n«  if  Romebody  hud  told  him  whiU  I  have  done.  And  hence 
jou  »liall  And  out  many  lame  Christians,  that  will  yitrld  lo  ttU 
Ihc  trulhii  di^livered  in  a  sermon,  and  coinmeud  it  loo,  but  go  away 
and  ahake  offull  irulbs  that  serve  to  convince  them.  And  hence 
snany  men.  when  they  examine  themselves  in  general,  whether 
Ihey  have  grace  or  no,  whether  they  love  Christ  or  no,  they  think 
yrr,  that  tliey  do  with  all  their  hearts  ;  yet  they  neither  have  this 
grace  nnr  any  other,  whatever  ihey  think,  becauae  they  want  a  re- 
flecliu);  light  lo  judge  of  jenerala  by  iheir  own  particular  cooracB.. 
For  tell  these  men  that  ue  that  loves  one  another  truly,  will 
often  think  of  him,  speak  of  him,  rejoice  in  his  company,  will  not 
wrong  him  willingly  in  ihi<  least  thini;:  imw.iuk  them,  if  ihcy  love 
Christ  ihus.  If  they  have  any  rctlei-ting  light,  they  will  see 
Whtrre  they  h1ITe  one  thonglrt-af -Christ,  they  huv*  a  thuuiand 
on  other  things  Bejoice  !  nay.  they  are  woory  of  his  company 
in  word,  in  pmycr.  And  that  they  do  not  only  wrong  him,  but 
make  a  light  matter  of  it  when  it  is  done.  All  are  sinners,  and  V 
no  man  can  live  without  sin.  Like  a  sleepy  man,  (Are  burning 
JB  hi*  hed  straw.)  he  cries  not  out,  when  others  happily  lament 
lis  esUte.  that  see  afar  off.  but  can  nut  help  him.  (b.  xliS.  25.) 
'  iian  that  is  lo  be  hanged  the  next  day  may  dream  over  night 

sballbe  a  king.  Why!'  Because  ho  ix  asleep,  he  reflects 
on  him»rlf.  Thou  maresl  gn  lo  the  devil,  and  be  damned, 
yel  ever  think  and  dream  that  all  h  well  with  thee.     Thoit 

I  no  retlucling  liglit  to  judge  of  thyself.     Pray  ihereforo  that 

Lord  would  turn  your  eyes  inward,  and  do  not  lei  Ihe  devil 
delusion  shut  you  out  of  your  own  bouse,  from  seeing  what 
'  is  kept  there  every  day. 


76  THE   SINCERE   CONVERT. 

Fifthly.  The  unJera  land  [rig's  impiely,  whereby  it  lessens  itaa 
''  vilifies  the  glorious  grace  of  God  in  nnolner  ;  whence  it  comes  to 
pass,  ihat  lliis  deluded  soui,  seeing  none  much  better  thsn  him- 
Belf,  coDcludea,  11*  any  be  nuveil,  I  shall  no  doubt  be  one.  (Is.  xxvi. 
10,  11.)  Men  vill  not  beUold  the  mnjesty  of  God  in  ibe  lives 
of  his  people ;  many  a  man  being  loo  ligbt,  yet  deginiUH  to  go  and 
pass  for  ctirrcnt,  weighs  himself  with  ihe  best  people.and  thinks. 
What  have  ihcy  lhat  I  have  not?  what  do  they  that  I  do  not  ? 
And  if  he  see  they  go  beyond  him,  then  Ike  turns  kis  own  balance 
with  his  finger,  and  mokes  ihera  too  light,  that  so  he  himself  mftjt 
pass  for  weiglit 

And  this  vilifying  of  them  and  their  grace,  judging  them 
be  of  no  other  metal   then   other  men,  appears  in  three  pa^r' 
liculars. 

First.  Tliey  raise  uptiilae  rej3(»l3-OCjG2C?J?9P'^'  '•"^  nourii^' 
a  kennet  of  evil  suspicions  of  ihem ;  if  ihey  know  any  sin  com* 
mttled  by  them,  they  will  conclude  they  be  all  such;  if  they 
see  no  oRensite  sin  in  any  of  them,  they  are  then  reputed  a  pack 
of  hypocrites ;  if  ihey  are  not  so  uncharitable,  (having  no 
grounds,)  they  prophesy  they  will  hereulUr  be  as  had  us  others, 
though  they  carry  a  fair  flourish  now. 

Secondly.  If  they  judge  well  of  them,  then  Ihey  compare  ihem- 
■elves  to  them,  by  taking  a  scantling  only  by  iheTT^tslde,  atid 
by  what  they  see  in  them  ;  and  so.  like  chihlren,  seeing  stars  a 
great  way  off,  think  tliem  no  bigger  nor  brighter  than  winking 
candles.  They  stand  afar  off  frojn  seeing  Ihe  inside  of  a  child 
of  God ;  they  see  not  the  glory  of  God  tilling  that  temple  ;  they 
ace  not  the  sweet  influence  they  reoeive  from  heaven,  and  lhat 
fellowship  ihey  have  with  their  God;  and  hence  they  judge 
but  meanly  of  ihem,  because  the  outside  of  a  Cbrisliau  is  the 
worst  part  of  him,  and  his  glory  shines  chieHy  wiihin. 

Thirdly.  If  they  see  God's  people  do  excel  them,  that  they 
have  better  lives,  better  hearts,  and  better  knowledge,  yet  they 
will  not  conclude  that  they  have  no  grace,  because  it  harh  not 
that  stamp,  that  honest  men's  money  hath.  But  this  prank  they 
play;  they  think  such  and  such  good  men  have  a  greater  measure 
and  a.  higher  degree  of  grace  than  themselves,  yet  they  dare  be 
bold  lu  think  and  say  their  Ifearta  are  as  ujiTighi,  though  they 
be  not  so  perfect  as  others  are ;  and  so  vilify  ihe  grace  thul  shines 
in  the  beat  men,  by  making  this  gold  to  dilfer  from  their  own 
copper,  not  essenliuljy,  but  gradually,  and  hence  they  deceive 
themselves  miserably ;  not  but  that  one  (star  or]  sincere  Christian 
dilfera  from  unother  in  glory  ;  I  speak  of  those  men  only  that 
never  were  fixed  in  so  high  a  sphere  as  true  honesty  dwells,  yak. 


1 

I 


THE   anCERB    COITTEHT.  77 

I  foUt'ly  fiiilier  tliis  bad  conclusion,  thatrhey  nro  upright  for  their 
t  neik^ure,  thai  llit-y  luivu  nor.  ihe  like  nieiwure  irf  grace  received 
f  M  olhrrs  liavo. 

Sixthly.  T}i6.BiiJiiMtaTiding'fl  Idolalry.  irherebytlie  mind  sets 
ii|i.  mill  buwa  Sown  to  a  false  minge  oi  grawt ;  Unit  i«,  the  mind, 
being  Iguorani  o{  (he  height  and  excellency  of  true  grace,  takes  a 
faliN)  swintling  of  it,  and  fo  imitgiiie*  and  l'anL'i''.'>,  within  itself, 
bufIi  a  niL'tv^iiTp  of  common  ):;race  to  be  true  grmw,  which  the 
•oul  easily  ItaViiij^  attained  unto  coaceiveH  il  is  in  tliei  estate  of 
grace,  twd  ea  dtwive*  iliwlf  miserably.  (Hom-.x.  3.)  And  the 
mind  comes  lu  set  up  her  image  thus :  — 

First.  The  mind  i«  haunted  and  pursued  wiih  trouiilesome  fears 
of  hell  1  conseinniH!  lelU  him  he  lm«  sinned,  and  the  law  tells  htm 
be  sliall  dii',  and  Death  appear^  nnd  tells  him  lie  must  sbortty 
nect  wiili  him ;  nud  if  he  he  taken  away  in  ids  »ins,  then  comes 
a  black  day  of  reukoning  tor  all  his  privy  prank;,  a  diiy  of  tiland, 
horror,  jiidsmeui,  and  fire,  where  uu  creature  cat)  comfort  him. 
Hence  snith  hn.  Lord,  kiH-|>  my  soul  from  these  miwrieii ;  lie 
hopeth  it  elmll  not  pi-ove  «o  i-vil  vritli  him.  but.fears  il  will. 

Sewjidly.  llereupoo  he  desireth  ^>eaco  and  eiwe.  and  some 
usunince  of  freedom  from  those  evils.  For  it  is  a  hell  i^v* 
ground  ever  to  lie  on  the  rack  gf  tormenting  fears. 

Thirdly.  That  liemay  have  ease,  he  will  not  swugger  his  trouble 
away,  nor  drown  it  in  tae  bottom  of  the  cup,  nor  throw  it  away 
with  hi*  dice,  nor  play  it  away  at  cards,  but  desires  some  grace, 
(and  eummonly  it  in  iho  leaal  niea^oiv  of  It  too.)  IIereu|tun  ho 
dftiiireif  to  hear  bucIi  sermons  and  rend  such  liooks  a"  may  twdt 
sutisly  him  concerning  the  least  measure  of  grace;  for, sin  only  . 
troubling  him,  grace  only  can  comfort  liim  soundly.  And  bo. 
^'rai-e.  which  is  nkeal  and  drink  to  a  holy  heart,  is  but  phy«lc  to 
tUU  kind  of  men.  lo  ease  them  of  iheir  fears  and  trouble*- 

1  Icr>u|i<>n.  Iiiiii^  it^noninl  of  the  lioighl  of  true  grace,  l|f  fftpriw^] 
iaiiim;'li  -ii'  ^  ■<  ::i'  i-nri-  uf  common  grace  lo  be  true  grace. 
A,,  ill,.!.   ]   ;,..  ...r.mt'Srir.aiwliiA-fib'uHcs-TIm^-Sr 

iiiiii'li  Lull.' '  'I      I.  II  ^'et,  (iaith  he.     If  »ome  foul  slus  In 

hi-^  pru'ii  .  I.  i.iM  I  Ml,  fill. .■  he  will  ca*t  away,  and  sorefonns. 
If  oiiii.»i(.ri  ui*  ^1-1  .luii.-i  molest  him,  he  will'  hear  bettor,  and 
buy  mme  good  prnrer  book,  and  pmy  of^encr.  An<l  if  he  liii 
{MTtuaili^l  such  a  man  in  a  very  lione.it  man,  then  he  will  itrivu 
to  do  as  lie  doiti :  and  now  lie  is  ijuieted. 

When  ho  hath  atluined  nnio  this  pitch  of  his  own.  now  he 
think*  himself  a  young  l^eginner,  nnd  a  good  one  loo ;  im>  that  If 
he  dieth,  he  thinks  he  siuUI  do  wrrti ;  if  he  livnlh,  he  tliinks  and 
hope*  he  ihuU  grow  better :  and  when  he  is  come  to  bis  own 


pitch,  he  hero  sets  down  his  staff,  as  fully  satisfied.  And  now,i 
lie  be  pressed  to  get  into  tbe  estate  of  p^ftce,  his  answer  ig, 
[That  is  not  to  be  done  now:  he  Umnlis  God  that  care  is  past. 
J  The  truth  is  (beloved)  it  is  loo  high  for  him  ;  his  own  legs  could 

V  never  carry  him  thilhcr,  all  his  grace  coming  bj  bis  ov^  working, 
not  by  God  Ahnightj's  power.  Let  a  man  have  false  weights, 
he  is  eheated  grierously  with  light  gold.  Why  ?  Because  his 
weights  are  too  light,  so  these  men  have  too  light  weights  lo  judge 
of  the  weight  of  true  grace;  thcreforclight,  dipped,  cracked  pieces 
cheat  them.  Hence  you  Bhaii  have  tlKise  tneu  cominend  pithless, 
sapless  men,  for  very  honest  men  as  ever  break  bread.  Why  ? 
They  are  just  answerable  lo  their  weights.  Hence  I  havenotmuch 
wondered  at  them  who  maintain  that  a  man  may  fall  away  from 
true  grace ;  the  reason  lieth  here :  They  set  up  to  themselves 
such  a  common  work  of  grace  to  be  true  grace,  from  which  no 
wonder  tliat  a  man  may  fall.  Hence  Btillarmine  sailh.  That 
which  is  true  grace,  veritiite  euenlia,  only,  may  be  lost ;  not  Ihal 
grace  which  is  true,  veritide  firma  toUdilatii,  which  latter,  being 
rightly  understood,  may  be  called  special  grace,  as  the  other  com- 
mon grace.  Hence  also  you  shall  have  many  professors  hearing 
a  hundred  sermons  never  moved  to  grow  better.    Hence  likewise 

■  you  shall  see  our  common  preachers  comfort  every  one,  almost, 
that  they  see  troubled  in  mind,  because  they  think  presently,  they 
have  (rue  grace,  now  they  begin  to  be  sorrowlui  for  their  sins. 
It  K  just  according  to  their  own  light  weights. 

I  For  the  Lord's  sake  take  heed  of  tliis  deceit.  True  grace  (I 
tell  you)  it  is  a  rare  pearl,  a  glorious  sun  clouded  from  the  eyes 
of  all  but  them  that  have  il,  (Hev.  ii.  17  ;)  a  strange,  admirable, 
almighty  work  of  God  upon  the  soul,  which  no  created  power 
can  produce ;  as  far  different,  in  the  least  measure  of  it,  from  the 
highest  degree  of  common  grace,  as  a  devil  is  from  an  angel ;  for 

'    it  is  Christ  living,  breathing,  reigning,  lighting,  conquering  in 

the  eoul.     Down,  therefore,  with  your  idol  grace,  your  idol  hon- 

I  esty ;  true  grace  never  alms  at  a  pitch ;  it  aspires  only  lo  per- 

Ifeglion.  (Phil.  iii.  12,  13.)  And  therefore  Chrysostom  calls  St. 

T*aiil  intatitAilii  Dei  cultor —  a  greedy,  insatiable  ^oishiper  of 

the  Lord  Almighty.  "         -  ^j  i  ,  ,  ■  .    , 

Seventhly.     The  unders landing's  error  is  another  cnu=e  of 

^J    man'i  ruin.     And  that  i<  seen  principally  in  iheoe  five  things, 

theMJ  Hve  error*  or  Iklse  coni-.ils!  — 

First.     In  judging  some  imuhle   of  mind,  some  light  sorrow 

I  for  sin,  to  be  true  repeniance;  and  so,  thinking  they  do  repent, 
hope  they  sbull  be  saved.  For  sin  i»  like  sweet  poison  ;  while  % 
man  is  drinking  it  down  by  committing  it,  thei«  is  much  pleaanHIl 


THE    BDrCEBB    OOirrERT. 


79 


in  it ;  but  after  the  committing  of  it,  there  is  a  siing  in  jt.  (Ptot. 
xxiii.  31.  32;)   then   the  time  comelh  when  tbia  poison  works, 
making  the  heart  swell  with  grief;  sorry  Ihej  are  at  the  heart, 
tbej  say,  for  it ;  and  the  eyes  drop,  and  the  man  that  commil- 
ted  sin  with  great  delight  now  cries  out  with  grief  in  the  bit- 
terness  of   his   soul,    O    that  I.    beast  that  I   am,    hod    never 
committed  it !    Lord,  mercy,  mercy  I   (Prov.  v.  3, 4, 11, 13.)  Nay, 
it   may  be  they  will   fast,  and   bumble    and   afflict  their  souls 
voluntarily  for  sin ;  and    now   they  think  they  have  repented, 
(Is.  Ivlii.  3,)  and  hereupon  when  they  hear  that  all  that  sin  shall 
die,  they  grant  (his  is  true  inde«d,  except  a  man  repent,  and  so 
they  tbink  they  have  done  already.     This  is  true ;{  at  what  lime 
soever  a  sinner  repents,  the  Lord  will  blot  out  bis  Iniquity :  but . 
this  repentance  is  not  when  a  mim  is  troubled  somewhat  in  mind 
for  sin,  but  when  he  comelh  to  mourn  for  sin  as  bis  greatest  1 
evil,  and  if  he  should  see  all  bis  goods  and  estate  on  a  light  tire  | 
before  him  ;  and  that  not  for  some  sins,  but  all  sins^  little.^ 
great ;  and  that  not  for  a  time,  for  a  fit  and  away,  ^a  land  floo 
BT  sorrow,)  but  always  like  a  spring  never  dry,  but  ever  ninning 


wil* 


s  lifeiin 


Secondly.  In  judging  the  striving  of  conscience  against  si 
to  be  the  striving  of  the  flesh  a^in$l  Ihe  spirit.;  and  hence  come 
these  speeches  from  carnal  black  mouths ;  the  spirit  is  willing, 
but  the  flesh  is  weak.  And  hence  men  think,  they,  being  thus 
compounded  of  ftesh  and  spirit,  are  regenerate.,  and  in  no  worse 
estate  than  the  children  of  God  themselves.  As  sometime  I  < 
once  spake  with  a  man,  that  did  verily  tbink  that  Pilate  was  an 
honest  man,  because  he  was  so  unwilling  to  crucify  Christ; 
which  unwillingness  did  arise  only  from  ihe  restraint  of  con- 
scieiii.-«  against  the  facl-  So,  many  men  judge  honestly,  yet  sim- 
ply, upon  such  a  ground  of  iheraselves ;  they  say,  they  strive 
against  iheir  sins,  but.  Lortl  be  merciful  unio  them,  they  say,  the 
flesh  is  frail.  And  hence  Arminius  gives  a  diverae  inlerprela- 
lion  of  (be  seventh  chapter  to  tbe  Romana  from  ordinary 
divines ;  concerning  which  Paul  speaks  in  ibe  person  of  an  unre- 
gcneraie  man,  t>ecause  he  observed  divers  graceless  persons  (as 
he  saitb  himself)  having  fallen,  and  falling  commonly  inl 
against  conscience,  to  bring  Ibal  chapter  in  their  own  defense 
and  comfort,  because  they  did  that  which  tliey  allowed  not, 
(vor.  15,)  and  so  it  was  not  they,  but  sin  that  dwelled  in  them. 

And  M]  many  among  us  know  ihey  should  be  better,  and  strive 
Uukt  tber  may  grow  betier,  but,  Ihruugfa  ibe  power  of  sin,  can 
not ;  conscience  tvlls  them  they  must  tiot  sin,  iheir  heart*  and 
lusls  say  they  must  sin ;  and  here,  forsooth,  b  flush  and  i 


■s  togctber;  wliicll" ' 


4 


0,  no,  liei'c  is  consriencc  mul  lii^i  only  by  llie  ei 

striving,  Herod,  Balaam,  PUale,  or  lb»t  vUce 

world  may  hiivc.  ^  Suvh  ii  wur  arguttth  nol 

lieart,  but  rather  inure  strength  of  corrnjiliui  , 

of  sin  in  ihB  heurt ;  as  it  is  no  wonder  if  a  horse  run  away  wiien 

ho  ia  loose :  but  nlion  his  bit  and  his  bridle  are  in  hie  mouth. 

Sow  to  be  wild,  argucih  he  ia  altogether  tintamed  and  subdued. 
.'nke  herd,  ihercfure.  of  judging  your  estate  lo  he  good,  because 
of  aomo  backwardne.^s  of  jour  hearts  to  comniit  some  eins,  though 
little  sins ;  for  ihv  siiM  may  bo,  and  it  is  most  certain  are,  more 
powerftd  In  thcc  than  in  others  ihal  have  not  the  like  strag- 
glings, because  they  have  not  enrh  checks  as  thou  hast  to  restrain 
Ihec.  Know,  therefore,  thiit  the  striving  of  the  sjiirit  against  tho 
fleah  is  aptinst  yin  beeuuse  ■'  '«  f'"  •-  ns  a  man  hales  a  toad,  though 
IK  IW  never  poisoned  by  lt;rmit  Ilic  striving  of  rliy  conscience 
agckinst  $in  is  only  agaiust  sin  because  it  is  h  tmiihiing  nr  a 
ll  dauiniiij^  sin.  The  striving  of  the  a|iirit  against  the  flesh  is  from 
1^  iTTJtwIly"  kitr.!d  of  sin.  (Rom.  vii.  15,)  But  thy  striving  of 
)|  I'll  n,' civ  lie.'  ugninet  sin  is  only  from  a  fear  of  the  danger  of  Bin. 
Fur  ISiiliiiini  haii  a  mind  lo  eiirsc  the  Israelites,  for  his  money's 
Bake  1  but  if  he  might  have  hud  a  liouse  full  of  silver  and  gold, 
(which  is  a  gooiUy  thing  in  n  covetous  eye.)  it  is  said,  he  durst 
uot  curse  them.  / 

TbtKlly.  In  judging  of  the  sincerity  of  the  heart,  by  some 
Vs'>Pd  affection  in  the  heart.  Hence  roivny  a  deluded  soul  reasons 
Uifu^iseout  thus  with  himself:  Either  I  must  be  a  profane  man,  or 
a  byjioerile.  or  an  upright  mait.  Not  profane,  I  thank  God ;  for 
I  art  111)1  K'l'P"  lo  whoring,  drinking,  oppression,  swearing;  nor 
lij|.c"'rjii-,  tl>r  I  hale  these  uliows,  1  can  not  endure  to  appear  bct- 
ii-i'  iviilioi^i  thiin  I  am  within  ;  Iherelhre  I  am  uprighL  Why  ? 
(),  ln'cniisi;  my  hiiart  is  good?  my  atfi-'clions  and  desires  within 
are  licticr  ilian  my  life  without  i  and  whatever  oiliers  judge  of 
me,  1  know  mine  own  heart,  and  the  heai'l  is  all  that  God  desires. 
And  thus  they  fool  themselves.  (Pniv.  xsviii.  26.)  This  is  one 
of  ihc  gj'pniest  <'anses  and  )^roimds  of  mislnke  amun;  ' 
that  tliink  Itest  of  theni-'i'lves ;  thry  are  not  ulile  to  put 
enee  between  the  good  de>ires  and  strong  afl'ectiuns  that 
frutif  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ. 
~  .Silf-lovc  will  make  a  miui  seok  his  own  good  and  safe^ 
hence  it  will  pull  a  man  oul  of  his  bed  kctimeH  in  th< 
and  call  him  u[i  lo  pray ;  it  will  take  hint  and  carry  hi 
chamber  toward  evening,  ajul  there  privately  make  him 
and-  pray,  and  tug  hard  for  |>iirdon,  for  Chriist.  lur  mercy : 
■    i  m  of  tliis  bread  !     But  the  loi-e  uf  Christ  i 


THE   SINCERE    COKTEKT.  81 


s  man  desire  Chrjst  and  hie  honor  for  himself,  and  all  otherl 
thinya  for  Christ.  It  is  true,  tbt:  desires  of  M>ns  in  Christ  hj\ 
faith  are  accepted  ever;  but  the  desires  of  servants,  men  that] 
work  only  for  their  wages  out  of  Christ,  are  not.  j^ 

Fourlhlj'.  In  judging  of  God's  love  lo  theni;  by  aiming  Bome-.  -■ 
times  at  the  glory  of  God.  Is  this  possible,  Iliat  a  man  should' 
aim  at  God's  glory,  and  yet  perish?  Yea,  and  ordinarily  too : 
B  man  may  be  liberal  to  the  poor,  maintain  the  ministry,  be  for- 
wanl  and  stand  for  good  things,  whence  he  may  not  doubt  but 
ihnt  Go<l  loves  hiro :  but  here  is  the  difference  —  though  a  wicked 
man  may  make  God's  glory  in  some  particular  things  his  end, 
yet  he  never  makes  it,  in  his  general  course,  his  utmost ^nd. last 
end.  A  subtle  apprentice  may  do  all  his  mflstc/s  work,  hut  he 
may  take  the  g^n  to  himself,  or  divide  it  betwixt  his  master  and 
himself,  and  so  may  be  but  a  knave,  as  observant  as  he  seems  to 
btt:  so  a  subtle  heart  (yet  a  villainous  heart)  may  forsake  all 
the  world,  as  Judas  did,  may  bind  himself  apprentice  lo  all  the 
duties  Giod  requires  outwardly  at  his  hands,  and  so  do  good 
works;  but  what  is  his  last  end?  It  is  that  he  might  gain 
resjiect  or  place,  or  that  Christ  may  have  some  part  of  the  glory, 
and  he  another.  tSimon  Magus  would  give  any  money  some- 
times tliat  lie  could  pray  so  well,  know  so  much,  and  do  ns  others 
do:  and  yet  his  last_end  is  farJiJmself :  hut  "how  can  you  believe, 
if  you  seek  noi that  glory  that  comes  from  God?"  saith  Christ, 
There  is  many  seek  the  honor  of  Christ ;  but  do  you  seek  his 
honor  only  ?  Is  it  your  last  end,  where  you  rest  and  seek  no 
more  but  Ibat?  If  thou  woutdeat  know  whether  thou  makest 
Christ's  glory  thy  last  end,  observe  this  rule :  — 

If  thou  art  more  grieved  for  the  eclipse  of  ihine  own  honor, 
and  fur  thine  own  losses,  than  for  the  loss  of  God's  honor,  it  is 
•D  evident  sign  thou  lovesl  it  not,  dcsirc^t  it  not  as  iliy  chitifest 
good^^MJlm  hwl  end,  for  thy  iMmimum'  SoHum,  and  therefore 
dMinot  seek  God's  honor  in  the  prime  and  chiefest  place.  Sin 
troubled  Paul  more  than  all  the  plagues  and  miseries  of  (he 
world.  Indeed,  if  thy  name  be  dashed  with  disgrace,  and  thy 
will  be  eroded,  thy  heart  is  grieved  and  disi^iiieled :  hut  the 
liord  may  lose  his  honor  daily  by  thine  own  sins,  and  those  that 
be  round  about  thee,  but  not  a  tear,  not  a  sigh,  not  a  groan  to 
behold  such  a  speclacic :  as  sure  as  the  Ix>rd  lives,  iliou  seekest 

t  the  Lord's  name  or  honor  as  ihy  greatest  (food. 

Fifthly.     In  judging  the  power  of  sin  to  beJtuLiBfirioilyj  for 
If  ally  thing  trouble  an  unregenerste  man,  and  makes  him  call    ' 
Ua  esiftie  Into  question,  it  is  sin.  either  in  tlie  being  or  power  of 
ll.     Now,  sin  ill  the  being  ought  not,  must  not.  make  a  man 
^fKttioa  hid  estate,  because  the  best  have  that  left  in  them  that 


82  TDK   SraOERE   CONVERT. 

will  liiiniblu  lliom.  and  make  them  live  by  faith ;  Ihereft 
power  of  sin  only  ciin  jiiailv'  thus  trouble  a  man.  Now,  it  a 
man  do  judge  of  Iliis  to  be  only  but  infirmity,  whicb  the  best  arc 
compassedjiboiil  witlial,  be  can  not  but  lie  down  securely  and  Ibink 
hiraself  well.  And  if  ibis  error  be  seltlcd  in  one  thai  lives  ' 
'  one  known  sin,  it  \a  very  difficult  to  remove  ;  for  let  the  mil 
cnst  the  spiirks  of  hell  in  their  faces,  and  denounire  the  terror 
God  against  tbem,  they  are  never  alirred.  Why  ?  Because  tha] 
tliitik.  Here  is  for  you  thai  tive  in  ain,  but  as  for  thcmselvHi,' 
sltbough  they  have  sina,  yet  tbey  strive  against  them,  and  eo 
eon  not  leave  lliem  ;  for  vrn  must  have  gin  as  long  as  we  live 

Ihere,  they  say.  Now,  mark  it,  there  is  no  surer  sign  of  a  man 
under  the  bloody  reign  and  dominion  of  bis  luats  and  sins,  ibim 
this  —  that  is,  to  give  way  to  sin,  (though  never  so  litllc  and  com- 
mon,) nor  to  be  greatly  troubled  for  sin,  (for  they  may  be  n  little 
troubled,)  because  they  can  not  overcome  sin.  I  deny  not  but  the 
bi'sl  do  sin  daily  ;  yet  (his  is  the  disposition  of " Paul,  and  every 
child  of  (iod — be  moumelh  not  the  less,  but  the  more  for  sins; 
though  lie  can  not  quite  subdue  tbem,  cast  ihem  out,  and  over- 
come them.  As  a  prisoner  mourns  the  more  that  he  is  bound 
with  such  fetters  he  can  not  break,  ao  doth  every  one  truly  sensi- 
ble of  his  woful  captivity  by  sin.  This  is  the  great  difference 
between  a.  t^ging  sin  a  man  will  part  withal,  and  a  sin  of  in- 
firmity a  man  can  not  part  withal :  a  sin  of  inlirmity  is  such  a 
sin  as  a  man  would,  but  can  not  part  with  it,  and  hence  he 
mourns  the  more  for  it ;  a  raging  sin  ia  such  a  sin  as  a  man, 
haply  by  virtue  of  his  lashing  conscience,  would  sometimes  part 
wilhal,  but  c-iin  not,  and  hence  mourns  the  less  for  it.  Bud  gives 
way  to  it.  Now,  for  the  Lord's  sake,  l«ke  heed  of  this  deceit ; 
for  I  tell  you,  those  sins  you  can  not  part  withal,  if  you  groan 
not  day  and  nighl  under  ibcm,  (saying,  0  Lord,  help  mc,  for  I 
am  weary  of  myself  and  my  life,)  will  certaiidy  undo  you.  You 
'say,  you  can  not  but  speak  idly,  and  think  vainly,  and  do  ill, 
as  nil  do  sometimes ;  I  tell  you,  those  sins  shall  be  everlasting 
chains  io  hold  you  fast  in  the  power  of  the  devil,  until  liie 
judgment  of  the  great  day.^- 

And  thus  much  of  the  understanding's  corruption,  whereby 
men  are  commonly  deluded.    Now  foUoweth  the  second. 

Secondly.  In  regard  of  tlie  false,  bastard  peace  begot  in  the 
consejence.  Why  should  the  camp  tremble  when  scouts  are 
asleep '(  or  give  false  report  when  the  enemies  are  near  tbeni  ? 
Most  men  think  they  are  in  a  safe  estate,  liecause  they  wore 
never  in  a  troubled  e^lale ;  or  if  they  have  been  troubled,  because 
'lave  got  some  peace  and  comfort  after  ii. ,  Now,  this  ftdt 
is  begot  in  the  heart  by  these  tour  meaua  ; — 


THK    SINCERE    CONVERT.  83 

1.  By  Sal.'Ui. 

2.  By  false  icachers. 
S.  By  a  (ulie  epiriL 

4.  By  a  false  application  of  true  promiaes. 
I.  By  Satan,  whose  kiiigJotu  sliiill  fall  if  it  should  be  dividod, 

snd  be  always  m  a  combustion ;  hence  b«  laboi^lh  for  peace. 
(Luke  xi.  24,)  "When  the  strong  uao  keeiji^lh  the  palara,  his 
gonia  are  in  pence ; "  ihnt  is,  when  Satan,  armed  with  abundance 
of  diitU  and  jCarnaT  reasonings,  possesselh  men's  souls,  tliey 
art!  at  pcai.'e.wNow,  look  as  masters  give  tlicir  servants  ]>enw, 
evrii  to  the  dcTit —      "^*  •  - .. 

1.  By  removing  all  thin^  that  may  trouble  them;  and. —        v 
'2.  By  giving  unlo  ihcm  all  things  that  may  quiet  and  com*  j 
fort  tliem,  as  meal,  drink,  rest,  lodging,  kc^  ho  doth  Satan  deid  '' 
witli  bis  slaves  and  servants. 

First.  By  removing  those  sin*  which  trouble  the  conscience  ; 
for  n  man  may  live  in  a  sin,  and  yt^t  never  tx;  troubled  for  tliat 
sin ;  for  siu  ugninat  the  Hght  of  eonacience  only  Iroublee  the  Colt- 
science.  As  children  thiit  are  tumbling  and  playing  in  the  dustf 
ibi.'y  are  not  troubled  with  all  tb'f  dust,  nay,  they  take  pleasure 
lo  wallow  in  its  but  only  with  that  (whether  it  be  small  or  greM) 
tlint  lights  in  their  eyes.  And  hence  that  young  man  came 
boMsting  to  Christ  that  he  had  kept  all  the  commundment«  from 
bis  youth  ;  but  went  sway  mirrowful,  becuuse  that  dust,  tliut  sin 
be  lived  in  with  delij^ht  bufore,  fell  into  his  eyes,  and  iliercforo 
be  was  tronbled.  Now,  mark  the  plot  of  the  devil,  when  hs  can 
nuike  »  man  live,  and  wallow,  niid  delight  in  his  sinsi,  and  so 
wrvc  himi  (uid  yul  wilt  not  suffer  him  U>  live  in  any  sin  ngninal 
cuuHJeucv,  whereby  he  should  be  troubled,  and  so  seek  li>  vomt 
out  of  lliis  woful  estate,  he  is  sure  this  mou  is  his  own  ;  and  now 
•  poor  dchidnd  man  hitnxelf  goos  up  and  down,  not  doubling 
Lur  he  *h;ill  be  siivi-d.  Why?  Bccnaso  tljcir  con-icirnce  (they 
Ilwnk  CkI)  is  cluir,  un<l  ihry  kiBW  tjmi  otII!  SllUMlty  Tn'eTfr" 


tliey  know  nr>ttilBg'py;»r'imt'tirti  ili.tr  tinty  in;A~Uieii 
B  fu^p<-.t  iTicir  estaie""is  lindT'OIiiit.  is-  13.)  "I  came  n<ii  lo 
(1)11  llle  rigbirons,  but  sinners,  to  lepcnlance;"  ihiit  in,  sueh  a 
oni:  0*  in  his  own  opinion  ij  listi- whole ;  every  sin  buing  u  child 
of  God's  aiokiieM,  he  is  never  without  some  kind  of  sorrow  ;  hut 
«ume  •ins  only  being  b  natural  luun'x  siekneis.  ibey  being  re- 
aovedi  ho  recovers  out  of  his  formor  »<irrow,  and  grows  well 
•gnir.,  and  thinks  himself  Miuiid :  the.  Loid  .K-sus  never  cninc  lu 
■ave  such,  thnri'loru  K^itiin  ki^ps  |N)KSt!!Uiion  nf  ttiem.  For  ihn 
Lord's  soke,  look  lo  this  subtlety :  many  tliink  themselves  in  a 
I  eaUt^  beouue  they  knuw  not  the  partivular  sin  they  live 


64 


THE  anrcBSE 


in ;  whereas  Kulan   may  have   stronger  possession  of  such  i 
are  bounil  with  his  inviiiibie  fellers  and  ctinins,  when  ihose  that 
have  their  pinching  boiu  on  them  may  sooner  eacupe^ 

Secondly.  By  giving  ihe  soul  liberty  to  recreate  itself  in  any 
flinful  cour»ie,  wberein  the  eye  of  com<cieDc«  may  not  be  prioked 
will  wounded.  Servants,  when  tbey  are  put  always  lo  work, 
and  never  can  go  abroad,  are  weary  both  of  work  and  master; 
that  tnasier  pleaseCh  ttiem  Ihitt  givelh  tbem  moat  lil^crty.  To  be 
pent  up  all  the  day  long  in  doing  God's  work,  watching,  praying, 
Ijlgfaling  against  every  sin,  this  is  a  burden,  this  is  loo  strici ; 

'  because  that  tliey  can  not  endure  il,  ihcy  think  ibc  Lord  looks 
for  it  at  their  hands.  Now,  Satan  gives  men  liberty  in  their 
rfliaful  courses ;  and  tliis  liberty  begets  peace,  and  this  peace 
/makes  them  think  well  of  themselves.  (2  PeU  ii.  19.)  There  are 
many  rotlen  professors  in  these  days,  that,  indeed,  will  not  open 
their  mouths  against  the  sincere-hearted  people  of  God  ;  yet  they 
walk  loosely,  and  take  too  much  liberty  in  their  speeches,  liberty 
in  their  thoughts,  liberty  in  their  desires  and  delights,  liberty  in 
their  company,  in  their  pastimes,  and  that  sometimes  under  a 
pretense  ol'  Christian  liberty ;  and  never  trouble  themselves  with 
these  needless  controversies  :  To  what  end,  or  in  what  manner, 
do  I  use  these  things?  Whereas  the  righteous  man  feorcth 
alway,  considering  there  is  a  snare  for  him  in  every  lawful 
lilMirty :  May  not  I  sin  in  my  mirth,  in  my  speaking,  in  my 
sleeping  ?  O,  this  liberty  that  the  devil  gives,  and  the  world 
takes,  besots  most  men  with  a  foolish  opinion  that  all  is  well 
with  them. 

Thirdly.  By  giving  the  soul  good  diet,  meat  and  drink 
enough,  what  dish  he  likes  best.  Let  a  master  give  liberty, 
yel  his  servant  is  not  "pleased,  unless  he  have  meat,  and  drink, 
and  food;  so  there  is  no  wicked  man  under  heaven,  but  as  he 
takes  too  much  liberty  in  the  use  of  lawful  things,  so  he  feedeth 
his  heart  with  some  unlawful  secret  lust,  though  all  the  time  he 
live  in  it,  it  may  be,  it  is  unknown  to  him.  (Luke  xvi.)  Dive« 
had  his  dish,  his  good  things,  and  so  song  himself  usieep,  and 
bade  his  soul  lake  his  ease  and  rest ;  yea,  observe  this :  diet  is 
poisontd  in  itself,  but  ever  commended  to  the  soul  as  wholesome, 
good,  and  lawful.  They  christen  sin  vtiih  a  new  name,  as  f>o])eB 
are  at  their  election;  if  he  be  bad,  they  call  him  sometimes  Pius ; 
if».  coward,  Leo,  etc.  So  covetonsoess  isguod-  husltundry  ;  com- 
■keeping,  good  neighborhood ;  lying  lo  save  their  credit 
cracking,  but  a  handsome  excuse ;  and  hence  the  soul  goes 
ibly  on,  and  believes  he  is  in  a  good  estate. 

Fourthly.     By  giving  the  soul  rest  and  sleep,  that  is,  -nnwrn 


THE   BINCEKB    COFVKRT. 


6Jt 


aometimes  from  the  ad  of  sin ;  hence  Iliey  are  hardly  per- 
Buoded  ihat  ihey  live  in  sin,  beraiuse  they  oen.-ie  sometimes  from 
Ibe  BCt  o(  Ma  ;  as  no  man  dolh  always  swear,  nor  U  lie  alwaya 
drunk,  nor  always  angry.  They  think  only  their  falls,  in  these 
or  the  like  sins,  are  slips  and  falls  whii?h  the  best  men  may  have 
•ometiraes,  and  yet  be  a  dear  child  af  God.  0.  Satan  will  not 
always  set  men  ax  his  work  ;  for  if  men  should  always  have 
their  cups  in  their  hands,  and  their  qneans  in  their  arms ;  if  u 
eovelous  man  should  always  root  in  the  earth,  and  nerer  pray, 
Bever  have  good  Ihoiighta,  never  keep  any  Sabbath;  if  a  man 
ahoulil  always  speak  idly,  and  never  good  word  drop  from  him, 
a  man's  conscience  would  never  be  quiet,  but  shaking  him  up  for 
what  be  dolh;  but' by  giving  him  respite  for  sinning  for  a  lime, 
SalAn  getteth  stronger  possession  allerward;  as  Malt.  xii.  43. 
When  the  unclean  spirit  i»  gone  nut  of  a  man,  it  returns  wor«e. 
Samson's  strength  always  remained,  and  so  do[h  sin's  strength 
in  a  natural  man,  but  it  never  appears  until  temptation  come.' 

Kiftlily.  Bygivingihesoulfa^r  promise)' of  heavgn  and  eternal  V 
Ufe,  and  fastening  them  upon  theneart.  M»it  men  are  confident 
their  estate  is  good ;  and  though  God  kills  them,  yet  will  they 
trust  in  him,  and  can  not  be  beaten  from  this.  Why?  O, 
Satan  bewiicheth  ihem  ;  for  as  he  told  Evah  by  the  serpent,  she 
■hould  not  die,  so  doth  he  insinuate  his  persuasions  to  the  soul, 
though  it  live  in  sin,  he  shall  not  die,  but  do  well  enough  as  the 
preciseeL  Satan  gives  thus  good  words,  but  woful  wages  —  the  .  . 
eternal  llashcs  of  hell.  X  J 

II-  Bj. false  teachers,  who,  partly  by  their  loose  examples,^  ■ 
partly  by  tlieTr  flallering  doctrines  in  public,  and  iheir  large 
ferity  in  private,  daubing  up  every  one,  (especially  he  tbskt  u 
•  good  friend  unto  them.)  for  honest  and  religious  people  ;  and 
If  they  be  but  a  little  troubled,  applying  comfort  presently,  and 
BO  healing  (hem  that  should  be  wounded,  and  not  telling  ihem 
Toundly  of  their  Merodias,  as  John  Baptist  did  Herod.  Here- 
upon tbcy  judge  themseh'es  honest,  because  the  minister  will  giv« 
ihem  the  beggarly  passport  j  and  so  they  go  out  of  the  worid,  and 
4ie  like  lambs,  wofully  cheated.  (Matt.  xxiv.  II.)  Look  abroad 
In  the  world  and  see  what  is  the  reason  to  many  feed  their 
heart  with  confidence  they  shall  be  saved,  yet  their  lives  eon- 
i4emn  ihem,  and  their  hearts  acquit  them.  The  reason  is,  such 
snd  such  a  minister  will  go  to  the  alehouse,  and  he  never  praya 
Id  his  family,  and  he  is  none  of  these  precise,  hot  people,  and  yet 
■s  honest  a  man  as  ever  lives,  and  a  good  divine,  loo.  Alinb  w 
aiierably  cheated  by  four  hundred  false  prophets.  Whilst  the 
'  lifter  is  of  a  loose  life  himaelf,  he  will  wink  at  others  and.  , 

TOl.  L  8 


86  THE     S[\Ci:[{l^    CONVEHT. 

their  fiiulls,  lest  in  reproving  olhers  he  ghoulil  condemn  him- 
self, and  others  should  ^ay  uoto  him,  "Phyeieittn,  lit^al  ihjselt'." 
Thieves  of  the  same  comjmny  will  not  steal  from  one  another, 
teat  thev  trouble  thereby  themselves.  And  hence  they  give 
oth(;re  Talse  uurda  to  sail  hy,  false  rules  to  live  by  :  their  uncon- 
ecionable  large  charily  is  like  a  gulf  that  swiilloweth  ships, 
(souls  I  mean.)  tosse<l  with  tcmpeBts  and  not  coniforied.  (Is, 
liv.  7,  8.)  And  hence  all  being  fisb  that  coraeth  to  their  net,  all 
men  Ibiok  so  uf  Mietnselrea. 

lUVVvt  false  spiiit.  This  ia  a  third  rause  thnl  begets  a  false 
peace.  As  there  is  a  true  "  Spirit  that  wiinesseih  to  our  spirits 
tltat  we  are  the  sons  of  God,"  (Boin,  viii.  15,)  so  there  is  a  false 
spirit,  just  liite  the  true  one,  witnessing  that  they  are  llie  sons  of 
Uod.  (1  -Tohn  iv.  1.)  We  are  bid  to  try  the  spirits.  Now,  ifiheiie 
spirits  were  not  like  God's  true  Spirit,  what  need  trial?  As, 
what  need  one  try  whether  dirt  be  gold,  which  are  so  unlike  each 
other  ?  And  this  spirit  1  take  to  be  set  down,  Matt.  xxiv.  2S. 
Now,  look  as  the  truQ^pirit  wilnesseth,  so  the  false  spirit,  being 
like  it,  witnessethtalso?^ 

First.  The  Spirit  of  Ood  humbles  the  soul ;  so  before  men  have 
the  wilnesB  of  the  false  spfrtl,  Ihey'ure  mightily  east  down  and 
deeded  in  spirit,  and  hereupon  they  pray  for  vobk,  and  purpose 
to  lead  new  lives,  and  cast  away  the  weapons,  and  submit. 
(P..l,vl.S.) 

Secondly,  The  Spirit  of  God  in  the  gospel  reveals  Jesus  Christ 
and  Lis  willingness  to  save ;  so  the  false  spirit  diseovereth  Christ's 
'  eicellency.  and  willingness  to  receive  him,  if  he  will  but  come 
in.  It  fareth  with  this  soul  as  with  surveyors  of  landu,  llial  lake 
ftn  exact  compos  of  other  men's  grounds,  of  which  tbcy  shall 
never  enjoy  a  fool.  So  did  Balaam.  (Num.  xiiv.  5,  6.)  .This 
false  Bpirit  showeih  them  tht  glory  of  heaven  and  God's  people. 

Thirdly.  Hereupon  (he  soul  comelh  to  be  affected,  and  to  taste 
the  goodness  and  sweetness  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  those  did,  (Hub. 
vi. ;)  and  the  soul  breaks  cut  into  a  passionate  admiration :  0 
that  ever  there  should  bo  an.y  hope  for  such  a  vile  wretch  as  I 
am,  and  have  been !  and  so  joys  exceedingly,  liko  a  man  half 
way  rapt  up  into  heaven. 

Fourlhly,  Hereupon  the  soul,  being  comforted  oficr  it  was 
wounded,  now  calleih  God  my  God,  and  Christ  my  swi;et  Saviour ; 

/aodnowitdoubisuot  but  ilshallbcsaved.  Whyi*  Bccauselhave 
received  mueh  cnmjViri  after  mm-h  sorrow  and  doubling.  (IIos.  viii. 
•Si  8 ;)  Itlld  j^rTemains  n  dcliidei^  miseralile  creature  stilL  But 
here  mark  the  difference  between  the  witness  of  each  spiriu  The 
J  false  spirit  makes  a  uiaii  believe  he  is  in  the  slate  of  grace, 


1 


E   SINCEBK    CONVERT, 


87 


•hnll  Iw  savpd.  because  he  hnlh  Insteil  of  Christ,  and  so  hath 
^tleen  c-ooifurted.  anU  ihut  iibuntliinrly.  But  the  true  Spirit^r- 
•nadea  a  man  his  e«1at«!  is  "mkI  Hnd  safe,  hvcause  he  Iialh  not 
i«nlj  lasted,  but  bought  this  C'brJgi.  in  the  wise  menrhant  in  the 
p*|>eU  Ihal^Jo'iced  HB  BIT  louiiJl  the  jjearl.  but  yet  slays  twt 
here,  but  selU  away  all,  and  buys  the  peart.  Like  two  chapmen 
tiiat  cotne  to  buy  wine ;  the  one  ta§Ic«  it,  nnd  gorih  avrny  iiT  a 
^niDken  fit,  and  m  concludes  it  is  hU ;  so  a  man  duth,  that  hath 
faliie  spirit;  but  the  trae-!tpiril(^  man  do[li  not  only  lusie, but 
bays  the  wine,  although  he  doth  not  drink  i(  all  down  when  he 
Minelh  to  taste  it ;  yet  he  having  been  incited  by  tasting  to  buy  it, 
he  calU  it  bis  own.  80  a  child  of  God  tasting  a  little  of 
God,  and  a  little  of  Christ,  and  a  little  of  the  promiscA  at  hb  first 
ersion,  although  hn  tastes  not  nil  the  i-weetnei<fi  thiit  is  in  God. 
jei  he  forwikes  all  for  God,  for  Christ,  and  so  takes  them  lawfully 
la  his  own. 

'  Again :  the  false  spirit,  having  given  a  man  comfort  itnd 
pencT,  suft'ei^  a  man  to  rest  in  tliat  slatej  but  the  true  Spirit*  * 
Bavin):  made  the  soul  taste  tlie  love  of  the  Lord,  siirreih  uji  th« 
■oul  lo  do  and  work  mighlily  for  the  Lord.  Now  the  Mill  crittlh  J 
out.  What  shall  ]l~Ao  for  Clmsi^  ihalTuih  done  wondfrrs  for  me? 
f  every  hair  on  my  head  were  a  tongue  to  s[ieak  of  his  good-  . 
ess,  it  were  too  Utile.  (Neb.  viii.  10,)  "  The  joy  of  the  Lord  » 
sur  atrengtb,"  (Ps,  li..l2,)  "Upboid  mc  with  thy  free  spirit;" 
•tr,  tu  the  Cbaldeoa  paraphrase  hath  it,  thy  '-kingly  spirit;"  the 
ffirit  of  adoption  in  God's  child  is  no  underling,  suffering  men 
to  lie  down,  and  cry.  My  desires  are  good,  but  flc^b  is  frail.  No, 
it  ie  M  kingly  spirit,  ibnt  reigns  where  it  livetb. 

IV,  Fnlse  applying  of  true  protnises  is  the  luiit  cause  of  fulne  ), 
'  peace.     Antt  Vffi^ll  a  iinui  lisih  God's  Spirit  within,  and  God's 
I  haod  and  promii^e  (as  he  thinks)  for  bU  estate,  now  he  thinks  all 
I  aafr.     This  did  the  Jews  ;  tbey  saJd,  ■'  >Ve  bavo  Abraham  to  on 
Pntber;"  and  so  reputed  ihcmselvf^H  »afe,  Ctod  having  mode  then 
>yromise,  "  I  will  be  a  God  nf  thee  and  of  tliy  seed."    Itut  here  is 
;»  different^  between  n  child  of  God's  applieiition  of  Ibem  and  a 
.vicked  man's.     The  first  applieth  them  so  lo  bim,  as  ihni  hsy 
Itveih  upon  them,  and  nothing  but  tbem;  and  to  whom  dnth  the 
liing  belting,  but  lo  the  child  thai  lives  upon  it?    The  other  Itv 
'minn  )iielusta,and  creatures,  and  yet  cateheth  hold  on  the  promise.  L 

By  tbeie  four  meiuis  is  begot  a  batitanl.  fiilse  |>eHec 

Tliua  much  of  the  geennd  cause  of  loan's  doeeiving  himself — ^ 
/Aw  peace  in  the  conscience- 

Now  followelh  tbc  thinl. 

IIL  The  corruptions  and  disliMnpera  of  the  will,  which  i»  the 


i 


88  THE   BINCEKE   CONVERT. 

third  cause  why  men  deceive  themselves ;  which  are  maay. 
will  only  name  three.  i  -  "l    i 

Firsts  When  the  will  is  resolved  to  go  on  in  a  Rinful  courea». 
■  ani  then  seta  the  understanding  a-tvork  to  defend  it.  Whence  it' 
fareth  with  the  soul  as  with  a  man  that'l'U!I1Dlli"lo  search  for 
stolen  goods,  who,  having  received  a  bribe  beforehand,  searcheth 
every  where  but  where  it  i»,  and  so  Ibe  man  is  never  found  onk 
to  be  what  he  is.  So  a  man  having  tasted  the  aweetness  of  ft: 
sinful  course,  (which  pleasure  bribes  him,)  he  is  contented  to 
search  into  every  comer  of  bis  heart,  and  to  try  himself,  as  many 
do,  escept  there  where  his  darling  luat  lies ;  he  sits  upon  that, 
and  covers  it  willingly  from  hb  own  eyes,  as  Rachel  did  upon 
stolen  gods,  and  so  never  finds  out  himself.  (John  iii.  20,)  A 
man  that  hath  a  mind  to  sleep  quietly,  will  cause  the  cnrtaina 
to  be  drawn,  and  will  let  some  light  come  in,  but  sbuts  out  all 
that,  or  so  much  as  may  hinder  him  from  sleeping ;  so  a  man, 
having  a  mind  to  sleep  in  some  particular  sinful  course  at  bia 
ease,  will  search  himself,  and  let  some  light  come  into  his  mind. 

And  hence  many  profane  persons,  that  know  much,  (their 
opinions  arc  orthodox,  their  discourse  savory,)  yet  do  they  knoT 
little  of  themselves,  and  of  those  sins  and  lusts  that  haunt  them, 
which  they  must  part  with  ;  because  this  light  troubleth  them,  it 
binders  them  from  sleeping  in  their  secure  estate,  and  therefore 
I  they  draw  the  curtain  here.  Hence  many  men,  that  live  in 
fhioae  sins  of  the  grossest  usury,  fliiding  the  gain,  and  tasting  the 
sweet  of  that  sin,  will  read  all  books,  go  to  all  those  ministers 
they  suppose  that  hold  it  lawful,  and  so  pick  up  and  gather, 
reasons  to  defend  the  lawfulness  of  the  sin,  and  so,  liecause  they 
would  not  have  it  to  be  a  sin,  find  out  reasons  whereby  they 
Ihink  it  no  sin;  but  the  bollom  is  this  —  Iheir  will  hath  got  the 
bribe,  and  now  the  understanding  plays  the  lawyer ;  and  hence 
men  live  in  the  most  crying  sins,  and  are  sure  to  perish,  becauaa 
they  will  not  know  they  are  in  an  error. 

Secondly.  When  the  will  sets  the  understanding  a-work 
tenuale  and  lessen  sin  ;  for  many,  when  they  see  their  sii 
make  it  small  by  looking  at  the  false  end  of  ihcir  optic  glaM  t  ■ 
they  think  such  small  matters  never  make  any  breach  between 
the  Lord  and  their  souls.  Hence  they  say.  The  best  man  sins 
seven  times  a  day  ;  and  who  can  say.  My  heart  is  clean?  What 
is  the  reason  that  a  child  of  God  hath  Utile  peace,  many  times 
after  commission  of  small  sins  ?  0,  it  is  because  they  see  the 
horrible  nature  of  the  least  sin ;  small  wrongs  against  so  dear,  so 
great  a  friend  as  the  Lord  is,  it  cuts  tlieir  hearts  ;  yet  a  carnal 
^beart  is  never  troubled  for  great  sins,  because  they  make  a  light 
matter  of  them. 


^ 


TOE-  SIKCEHB   CONVEBT. 


r^^ 


K 


Thirdly,     Willful  ign<'rao''c  of  ihc  hori-ililg  writtj)  i^f  flml. 


U«nre  niiTi  riidi  on  in  sin  a*'  ffift  MriiH  friTKTft  hnltlp.  Honiw  ^ 
men  never  li-nr  Ili'nr  t'»tnie«.  because  ihey  kimw  not  Gtxl's  wnUh 
hanging  ever  tli«ln.  Coldest  snnlLp.ii,  wlicii  lliey  ari^  frozen  vi 
colli,  ncvur  stin^  nor  hurt ;  one  may  trarry  n  nest  of  ttium  in 
boKom  ;  but  bring  ihrm  to  the  Hiv,  then  ihny  hi^a  riii]  etiiig:  so 
sin.  when  it  is  brotiglit  nrar  God'it  wrntli.  (that lievou ring  flre,)  it 
tnnkvs  men  vxy  out  ol'  I  he  rose  Ives.  Then  I  am  uiiitone !  0. 1  nm^ 
a  lo^l  cTttaturel  Itnt  being  not  llius  libiiled,  »in  never  mitkiu  a 
man  crj  out  uf  himself. 

Tb«i*e  ore  iho  chiisfs  why  mrn  are  ignorant  of  their  woful, 
Btitcralile  eatat<^;  wbi(;b  iginorani^n  i.4  the  first  rorJc,  or  ibe  fir«t 
powder  pint,  that  spoils  thnusanOa. 

Yt't  tliere  are  ibn-C  more  dtlngeraus,  beainae  more  iiecret. 
Now  fulluvreih  the  second  reason  of  riuu'h  ruin.  By  ren 
imui'*  t-arnul  securllj.  whpniby  men  enn  not  be  ftfTeclpd  with,  _ 
r  so  mucF^sTWWTwiri*  to  desire  to  eomu  out  of  tlipir  miKarjr  ' 
ji:n  tbey  know  it;  for,  if  a  miiti'a  mind  understand  bis  mieiirj', 
yet  if  the  heart  be  bard  or  ek-vpy,  and  not  alfeeied,  loadea^ 
wounded,  bumbled,  and  ninde  to  gruan  under  it,  he  will  never 
greatly  care  lo  come  out  of  it.  (I».  xxix.  9,  ]0.)  Now.  this  it 
.the  estate  of  many  a  aouli  he  dolb  know  bis  misery,  but  by  rea- 
son of  the  sleepy,  srcure,  sciMmless  E|>irit  of  slumber,  be  never 
fceb  it,  niw  mottms  nmler  it,  and  so  comna  not  out  of  it. 
Now  th*  reasons  of  ibis  security  are  these:  — 
Becttuae  God  pours  not  out  tiie  full  measure  of  hia  wrulh  uiwn  ' 
men,  be«tu»e-  he  kindW  not  the  pile  of  wrnlb  ihai  lies  npon 
men,  it  is  rpserved,  and  concealed,  not  revealed  from  lIcHven ; 
nnd  so  long,  let  God  frown,  ministers  threHii-ti,  and  smaller  judg- 
ments drop,  yet  iliey  will  never  welt  slielter  in  -lesus  Cbrisl, 
but  sleep  in  ibeir  sins,  until  Ouil  raiu  down  floods  of  horror, 
Mood,  Qrc ;  until  God's  arraws  (-lick  in  men's  hearts,  tbry  will 
nrwsiwk  om  of  ihemsi'lTes  unto  Jcaus  Christ,  (I-k^.  viiL  11.) 
.So  long  ns  God's  pisgues  were  ujxm  Pbornob,  hu  givetb  fnir 
words,  nnd  Mtues  must  be  sunt  to  pruy  for  him ;  but  when  God'< 
luind  is  taken  away,  now  Fbaraub's  heart  is  hardened :  so  lunj; 
MS  <io<r4  swiird  14  in  bis  scabbard,  men  hRvn  such  stout  heans 
that  they  will  never  yield  :  God  mui't  wnund,  and  eni  doep,  And 
Btnlii.  and  ilitn*t  to  ilie  very  licATt,  else  men  will  never  yield, 
never  awaken,  till  Gwi's  fists  Iki  tibuut  men's  ears,  and  he  is  dn^> 
gin!:  them  lo  ihc  stake-,  meu  will  never  awake  and  cry  for  » 
jianbin  and  delivenmce  of  tlieir  woful  eslnle. 

Secondly,  id  rause  if  they  do  in  jHirt  frcl,  and  so  foar  God** 
wnuii,  llity  put  nniiy  the  evil  dny  fur  from   ibem :  tlmy  bopo 


90  THE   SINCERE   COIfVERT. 

ibrj  shall  do  better  herenfter.  and  repent  some  other  tune, 
therefore  they  gay,  Soul,  eat,  drink,  follow  ihy  sports, 
queans ;  ihou  hast  a  treasure  of  time  which  shall  not  be  npt 
inaijy  years,  (la.  xsii.  12,  13;)  that  look  as  it  is  wiih  the 
let  it  be  of  never  so  pliable  a  disposition,  and  the  tire  never  so 
hot,  yet  if  it  be  not  brought  near  the  fire,  and  be  held  in  the  Bre, 
it  never  melts,  but  still  remains  hard ;  so  it  is  here.  Let  o  man 
or  woman  have  never  so  gentle  or  pliable  a  nature,  and  let  God's 
wrath  be  never  so  hot  and  dreadful  in  their  judgment?,  yel  if 
they  make  not  ihe  dny  of  wrath  present  to  them,  if  they  see  il 
not  ready  every  moment  to  light  upon  their  hearts,  they  are 
never  melted,  but  they  remain  hard  hearted,  secure,  aleemr 
wretches,  and  never  groan  to  coffie  OUl  of  ilieir  wotui  estafi^ 
Biliniffiris  Ihe  reason  why  many  men.  that  have  guilty  con- 
Bciences,  though  they  have  many  secret  wishes  and  purposes  to 
he  better,  yet  never  ery  out  of  themselves,  nor  ever  seek  eai* 
neatly  for  mercy,  till  they  lie  upon  their  death  beds ;  and  thea,, 
O  the  promises  they  ply  God  with !  Try  me.  Lord,  and  ra^ 
store  me  once  more  to  my  health  and  life  again,  and  thou  shkit 
Bee  how  thankful  I  will  be !  because  that  now  they  apprehend 
wrath  and  misery  near  unto  them.  (Heb.  iii.  13.) 

Thirdly.  Because  they  think  they  can  bear  God's  wratli, 
though  they  do  conceive  it  near  at  hand,  even  ul  Ihe  very  doultp 
men  think  not  that  hell  is  so  hot,  nor  the  devil  so  black,  nor  God. 
BO  terrible  as  indeed  he  is.  And  hence  we  sljati  observe  th^.. 
prophets  present  God's  wrath  aa  a  thing  intolerable  before  th* 
eyes  of  the  people,  that  thereby  they  might  quench  all  thosa 
cursed  conceits  of  being  able  to  bear  God's  wrath.  (Nabum  i.  9.) 
And  hence  we  shall  have  many  men  desperately  conclude  they 
will  have  their  swing  in  sin,  and  if  they  perish,  ihey  hope  they 
shall  be  able  to  bear  it ;  it  is  but  a  damning  they  think,  and 
hence  they  go  on  securely.  O,  poor  wretches  I  the  devil  scares 
and  fears  all  the  world,  and  at  God's  wrath  the  devils  quake,  and 
yet  secure  men  fear  it  not,  they  think  hell  is  not  so  terrible  a  place- 
Fourthly.  Because  they  know  no  better  an  estate.  Hence, 
though  they  feel  their  woful  and  miserable  condition,  yet  th^  _ 
desire  not  to  come  out  of  it.  Although  men  find  hard  lodging,  ■ 
in  the  world,  hard  times,  hard  friends,  hard  hearts,  yet  ihey  " 
make  a  shift  with  wliat  they  find  in  (his  miserable  inn,  until  they 
come  to  hell ;  lor  such  a  man,  pursued  by  outward  miseries,  or 
inward  troubles,  there  stays ;  O,  miserable  man.  that  makes  shifl 
till  he  come  to  liell  1  They  may  hear  of  the  happy  estate  of 
God's  people,  but  not  knowing  of  it  experimentally,  tliey  stay  I 
where  they  are.  (Job  iv.  14.) 


I 


THE   SINCERE   COKVERT. 

Take  a  prince's  child,  and  bring  it  up  in 
place,  it  nerer  aspires  after  a  kingdui 
in  thiii  world,  knowing  no  belter  an  estate,  never  cast  about  them 
to  get  a  belter  intieritance  than  that  ihej  seramble  for  here. 
Wives  mourn  for  the  lon^  absence  of  their  beloved  husbands, 
because  they  know  them  and  their  worth.  God  may  absent 
himself  from  men  weeks,  months,  years,  but  men  shed  not  one 
tear  for  it,  because  they  never  tasted  the  Rweetness  of  his  pres- 
ence. It  is  strange  to  see  men  take  more  content  in  iheir  cupa 
and  cards,  pots  and  pipes,  dogit  and  hawks,  than  in  the  fellowship 
of  God  and  Cbrift,  in  word,  in  prayer,  in  meditation ;  which  or- 
dinances  are  burdens  and  prison  unto  them.  What  is  the  reason 
of  it?  Is  there  no  more  sweetness  in  the  presence  of  God's 
smiling  in  Chrbt  than  in  a  filthy  whore?  Tes;  but  they  know 
not  the  worth,  sweetness,  satisfying  goodness  of  a  God.  Some 
■ea  fish,  (say  they,)  if  once  they  come  into  fresh  water,  will  neTer 
return  again,  because  ihey  now  taste  a  difl'erence  between  ihoM 
brackish  and  sweet  waters :  so  is  it  here ;  if  men  did  but  once 
taste  the  happiness  of  God's  people,  they  would  not  for  a  thou- 
■»nd  worlds  be  one  half  hour  in  their  wild,  loose  sea  again. 

FiAhly.  Because,  if  they  do  know  a  better  estate,  yet  their 
present  pleasure),  their  sloth,  doth  so  bewitch  them,  and  God's 
denials,  when  tbey  seek  unto  him,  do  so  far  discourage  them,  that 
they  sleep  still  securely  in  that  estate.  A  slotliful  heart,  be- 
witebed  with  present  case,  and  pleasures,  and  delighb*,  consider- 
ing many  a  tear,  many  a  prayer  must  it  ntnke,  many  a  night 
must  it  break  its  sleep,  many  a  weary  step  must  it  take  towards 
beaven  and  Christ,  if  ever  it  come  there,  grows  discouraged,  and 
dcaded,  and  hard-hearted  in  a  sleepy  estate,  and  liad  rather  have 
a  bird  in  the  hand  tlian  two  in  Ihe  bush;  Israelites  wished  that 
Ihey  were  at  their  onions  and  garlic*  again  in  Egypt.  Was 
there  no  Canaan  ?  Yes  ;  but  they  wished  so  because  there  were 
walls  built  up  to  heaven,  and  giants,  sons  of  Anak,  in  the  land,  dif- 
ficulties to  overcome.  O,  slothful  hearts !  Secondly.  Becauott 
God  sometimes  put  them  lo  straits,  and  denied  ihem  what  the^ 
■ought  for,  they  were  of  such  a  waspish,  testy,  sullen  spirit,  that, 
because  the  Lord  had  them  not  always  on  bis  knees,  rhey  would 
run  away ;  so  many  a  man  meetd  with  sorrow  enough  in  his  sin- 
ful, dropsy,  drunken  estate :  he  bears  of  Heaven,  and  a  better 
estate,  yet  why  goes  he  lo  his  lusts  and  flesh  pots  again?  O, 
biwBuw  there  arc  so  many  difflculties,  and  blocks,  and  hinderanct:* 
in  his  way;  and  beeftuse^they  pra^iuuLJnd  not  ease,  therefore 
they  rat,  driuli,  laugh,  sport,  and  sleep  in  iheTr  miserable  estat* 
•till  (Uatt.  TtL  14.)     Therefore  men  walk  in  the  broad  way. 


{ 


WCF.P.E   CONVERT. 


is  slroil  Hnii  narrow  [  it  is  a 
rk'l  i  tuen  h«d  railier  sit  almost  ■ 
)  lioar  nt  pmycr ;  tni^n  had  nilln 
it  Dut  and  run  ilirougli  the  n 


92 

because  lite  olIiLTway  lo  life 

I  a  burden,  a  [)ri:!{on,  to  b«  »u  f 
iiotir  ii)  Itie  $lock»  llian  l)u  t 
Im  damnc-d  itt  Inst  tlitiii  sn'i-ai 
receive  a  trown ;  aod  lierTce 

Sixllilj.  Because  of  the  atraiigc.  gtrooi 
bears  that  sway  over  men's  souls  iliat  II 
pri«oncre  eroop  lo  llifir  jailers  h»  foldicrs  that  have  taken  Uieir 
jiny,  their  pleasure  of  sin,  must  follow  it  as  their  cji))Iain,  ihou^ 
tbcy  pi  marcldng  on  lo  eleninl  ruin ;  nay,  though  dontni^t  ~ 
Bhonid  lie  to-morrow,  yet  they  must  and  will 


m  P°"' 


As  ihe  Sodomite*,  when  they  were  slnitten  with  blindness,  whii 
tormented  their  eyes  aa    thou};h   they  hud    been    pi'iekcd  wi 
tliorns,  (for  so  the  Hebrew  word  signilies,)  even  when  deslnictii 
AjfM  near,  Ihey  groped  for  the  dtwr.     Men  can  not  bul 
« they  perish  for  sin ;  henne  Ihey  reniiiiii  seeure. 
J       Seventhly.     Deapair  of  &id;sjHereiiJjfiiw^like  Cain, 


■re  renegades  ftuiii  the  M'M  lA  Gud  ;  men  think  they  Bhall  n 
find  mercy  when  all  is  done ;  hence  iliey  grow  deopenuely  sin* 
t\i1 ;  like  iho^c  Jtalian  acnaior?,  that,  dei>|>airing  of  their  livei^* 
when  upon  submission  iney  Dim  been  promised  their  lives,  yet 
being  conscioua  uf  their  villainy,  made  a  curious  banquet,  and  a 
the  «nd  of  it  every  man  drank  up  his  glass  of  poison,  and  kitlsi 
himself;  so  men  feeling  eucli  horrible  hard  he«ris,  and  beit^ 
privy  to  such  notorious  sins,  they  enst  an-ay  lives,  and  heaven^ 
and  soul  for  lost,  and  so  perish  wofully,  because  they  lived  deft* 
pemlely.  and  so  securely. 

>!iii;li  a  blind,  fals^,  ^MlK""gfr"H 
l.iii>win?  ajid  suspecting  that  aUa 
>.iine   hope  ihey  may  be  in  a  goo4 


Eighthly. 
of  God's  inen-v^  Im 

naugTiTTMrtmii'm.  m 

and  rest  in  their  (hit 
tlvHt  selilon 


they  lie  down  securelj 
hope.  Hence  ohserve,  those  peoplj 
lusion,  to  a  point,  that  either  they  mi 
c  of  grace  or  out  of  it,  that  never  come  to  be  aflected 
but  remain  secure  in  their  eondition,  ihey  commonly  grow  to  tl 
desperate  conclusion  :  that  iliey  hope  God  will  be  merciful  unttt 
them  i  if  not,  they  can  not  help  it :  like  ihe  man  ihtit  had  on  ti 
target  the  picture  of  God  and  tlie  devil;  under  the  lirsl  1 
wrote,  Si  tu  nun  via,  if  thou  wilt  not :  under  the  other  he 
^«  rogilai,  here  is  one  will. 

}41nthly.     Decausefmen  bring  not  their  hearts  under  the  han 

illmer  of  God's  word  to  ho  broken,  they  never  bring  their  oot 

'iBciencea  to  he  cut.     Hence  they  go  on  s'lill  securely  with  fesiera 

conscieuees.      Men  put  tlicmaetves   above   tlie   word,  luid  lhui( 


THE    SINCERE    CONTZBT. 

hearts  above  the  hammer/  they  come  not  lo 

to  bumble  them,  but  lo  judge  of  him.  or  lo  pii^k  some  pretty  6Qfl/ 

Ihinf;  out  of  the  word,  and  so  reiuain  secure  sols  alt  iheir  days  :l  ' 

for  if  ever  thy  heart  be  broken,  and  thy  conscience  be  awaked,! 

the  word  must  do  it ;  but  people  an-  an  a>rnn>n-t|^lil^p.  that  their  l\J4 

hearts,  like  footpaths,  grow  IianI  by  the  word.  *^       - 

Tenthly.     Because  men  i 
nor  the  horjjble  nature  pf  sin  :  men  chew  not  tTese^pilla ; 
they  never  come  to' be  affected  nor  awakened. 

Awaken,  therefore,  all  you  secure  crealures;  feci  your  misery,  ^^i 
that  so  you  may  get  out  of  it.  Dost  thou  know  thine  estate  ia 
naught,  and  that  thy  condemnation  will  be  fearful,  if  ever  thou 
dost  perish?  and  is  thine  heart  secretly  secure,  so  damnably 
dead,  so  desperately  hand,  that  thou  hast  no  heart  to  come  out 
of  it?  What !  no  sigh,  no  tears  ?  Canst  thou  carry  all  thy  sins 
upon  thy  back,  like  Samson  the  gales  of  the  city,  and  make  a 
tight  matter  of  them  ?  Dost  thou  see  hell  Sre  before  thee,  and 
yet  wilt  venture  ?  Art  thou  worse  than  a  beast  which  we  can  not 
beat  nor  drii?e  into  the  fire  if  there  be  any  way  to  escape?  O, 
get  thy  heart  to  lament  and  mourn  under  thy  miseries  ;  who 
knows  then  but  the  Lord  may  pity  thee  ?  But  0,  bard  heart  1 
Uiou  canst  mourn  for  losses  anj  crosses,  burning  of  goods  and 
houses,  yet  though  God  be  lost,  and  his  image  burnt  down, 


I 


hejif  how  you  do ;  and  if  you  n'ere  humbled,  we  should  have 
you  in  the  bitterness  of  your  spirit  cry  out, "  What  shall  we 
do  ?  "  But  know  it,  thou  must  mourn  here  or  in  hell.  If  God 
broke  Dnvid's  bones  for  his  adultery,  and  the  angels'  backs  for 
their  pride,  the  Lord,  if  ever  he  saves  thee,  will  break  thine 
heart  too. 

Quetiion.     But  thou  will  say.  How  shall  I  do  to  get  mioe  heart 
sfleetcd  with  my  misery  ? 

Aniwer.  1.  Take  a  full  view  of  thy  misery,  2.  Take  spe- 
CiJil  notice  of  the  Lonl's  readiness  and  willingness  to  receive 
tbee  yet  unto  mercy ;  for  two  things  harden  the  heart ;  I.  £^sfl 
hope,  whereby  a  man  hopes  he  is  not  so  bad  as  indeed  hei!r~ 
?  T?T  hiH>fi.  whereby  a  mnn,  when  he  sees  himself  so  notoriously 
bad,  thinks  there  is  no  willingness  in  the  Lord  to  pardon  o 
moiuter  of  men  to  mercy ;  and,  if  neither  the 


d 


M  THE   9INCEHE   COia'EKT. 

nicr  can  lirenk  l!i_v  ptony  Iiearf,  nor  tfii?  smiiiliiiip  of  i 

iT.  llum  liasl  n  hriirl  worsp  ihim  llip  devil,  nnii  ml  h  specincle  0 

the  grealest   misery,    1.  In   regard  of  sin.     2.  In 

God's  wratli. 

First.  In  regard  of  sin.  Tliou  IjaM  sinned,  nnd  ihaf  griei 
ouEly,  a)fivini!t  n  grent  God.  Thou  inakeei  tio  (,'n.-al  roatler  a 
Ibis :  no ;  but,  Ihougb  it  bo  nn  load  to  Ibee,  it  is  liuid.  r 
Lard's  heart,  (In.  i.  24,)  and  timu  will  coim-  lie  will  inn] 
vliolt  sinful  world,  by  rivers  of  firo  and  blood,  to  know  what  a 
eril  it  in;  for. — 

^1.  In  every  ^n  thou  dost  elrike  God,  and  fiinj^ 
he  heart  of  God.  2.  In  every  sin  thou  do^t  fpile  ngnintit  Godt!| 
for,  if  .there  were  but  one  only  thing  wherein  a  mi 
his  friend  a  displeasure,  was  not  here  spite  Bum  if  be  did  tl 
tiling?  Now  tell  me,  Imtb  not  the  Lord  been  a  good  fnend  us( 
thee  ?  Tell  me,  wiierein  halh  he  grieved  thee  "  and  tf  II  toe,  i 
what  one  thing  eansl  ibou  please  the  deril  and  do  God  a 
pleasure,  bat  by  sin  f  Yet,  O  bant  heart,  thou  imkeit  nothing 
of  it.  IJut  eonsider,  lliirdlyJ  in  every  sin  Ibou  do-1  dislhrone 
Gad,  and  setlest  thyself  abovJ  God  ;  for,  in  P(tr)  »in,  this  que)>- 
Itlon  18  put.  Whoso  will  shall  bo  done,  Goil'a  mil  or  man's? 
Now,  man  by  sin  sets  his  own  will  above  the  Lord's,  and  so  kieks 
God  (blessed  forever,  ailorcd  of  millions  of  saints  and  angels)  as 
ifilth  under  his  feet,     Wlial,  will  this  break  your  hearts  ?/ 

Consider,  then,  of-^God's  wrath,  the  certainty  of  it,/thf<  ott*  J 
"  BupjHjriableness  of  it,  4— how  thai,  dying  in  thy  sins  and'secun 
eslttte,  it  slmll  fall ;  fur,  when  men  ery.  Peace,  peaee,  then  c 
eth  sudden  destniution  at  unawares.     Fray,  therefore,  to  God  bf 
reveal  this  to  thee,  that  thine   henrt  may  break  under  it, 
ondly,  consider  ibe  Lord's  merny  and  i-eadiness,  to  save  thee,  i 
hath  prepared  mercy,  and  entreats  thee  to  take  it,  and  waitoi 
every  day  tor  ihee  to  that  end. 

The    third   reason   of  man's   ruin   is  that  carnal  iHinfidcii 
-iwhereby  men  seek  to  save  themselves,  and  to  seromble  out" 
their  miserable  estate  by  their  own  duties  and  performances, 
when  they  do  feel  themselves  miserable.    The  soul  dolh  as  iboso.', 
(llos.  V.  13)  men  when  they  be  wounded  and  troubled: 
never  look  after  Jesua  Christ,  but  go  to  their  owr 
themselves,  like  hunted  harts  when  tlie  arrow  is  ii 
U.  31,  32.) 

For  the  opening  of  this  point,  1  shall  show 
things :  — 

1.  Wherein  this  renting  in  duties  appears, 

2.  Why  do  men  rest  in  themselves  ? 


Tills 


THE    SINCIillE   C 

!:.lmg   in   (luiies 


I  tUc) 


ppears 
if  ignoranlly  bred  ntid  brougjiL 


gree^:  — 

1.  Tlic  soul  of  a  |iuor 
up,  rests  uonfidfnllj'  in  aupTjl: 
PupUl  litw  liu  hopvs   lo   be  wiVfcl ;  he 
w»rks.     But   iiM^uire,   further,    Whal  are    tnese 
Wby,  for  ihc  iBo*t  part,  superstitious  ones  of  iliei 
lioiKs  (foi'  the  ixrovr  lliinki 


will  answer,  tiy  his  good  I  1 
giwd   works?!  I 

bird  fnircdt,)  ns  whipjiiug  III 
iblidg  ov«r  tlmir  Palynwdlei-sJ'l 


(IintDM-U'ca,  iiilgririiHgc',  t'usting.  ni 
bowinic  ibwii  lo  iiii;i^>«  aud  itimkcs. 

2.  Now,  tbeso  bting  biiiiishiHl  from  ihe  cliurcli  and  kingdotn,  ^X 
lln'tj  niun  Bland  upon  thuir  titular  profi-agiiin  of  the  Irue  iflimoii.  ^-^ 
nJlhough  ihpy  be  duvita  incurnuK:  iii  tiicir  liveB.  Ivook  up  uiiil 
down  the  kin;^om  ;  you  shall  fi^t-'  suin<;  rouring,  di'iiikiiif;.  diviag, 
carding,  whoring,  in  luvi^rDs  and  blind  aluhouaes;  Qthe»  l}i'i(^ii- 
ing  onl  llu'ir  oaths,  ihcir  tnoulbs  ever  casting  out,  like  raging 
*vw,  filthy,  frothy  epoucbes  i  oihvra,  likv  JsmiHils,  wioinug  at 
the  bc«t  men ;  yut  the^c  nrc  ramlidciit  they  shall  he  saved.  Wh|^ 
(giaythcy,)  I  hey  are  no  Pnpisi.^;  bang  (hum,  iht-y  will  die  for 
tiicir  religion,  and  rather  burn  than  turn  uguin,  by  the  grace  of 
God.  Thus  ihe  Jews  boasted  they  were  Abndiuni'^  seed;  so 
o<ir  carnid  peojilu  boa»t :  Am  not  I  a  good  Proles limt  ?  Am  not  I 
bnptived?  Do  1  not  live  in  ihp  churdi?  and  tliercfore,  resting  1 
here,  hope  to  be  suv-od.  I  rctneaitx-r  a  judge,  when  one  pleadi.'dj 
once  with  him  for  hia  life,  that  he  uuglit  not  be  Iiimged  bocoiuo 
be  wu  a  gcmletmui :  he  told  him  that  tlierefure  he  should  bavo 
the  gallows  made  higher  for  tiim :  «o  nbeo  ihau  ploadcsl,  I 
am  a  Christian  and  n^ood  Protectant,  (jot  thou  wilt  drhik,  and 
cwcnr,  and  whortt,  neglect  prayer,  and  brimk  God's  Siibbatti,) 
and  therefore  tliou  hope»t  to  be  saved ;  I  letl  tliee  liiy  eondem- 
DAiion  thall  be  greater,  and  the  plagues  in  hell  the  heavier. 

3.  If  men  have  no  pcaee  here,  ihtii  Ihoy  lly  to,  iknd  K»t  in, 
fru  (pM^'fn  irt'  tllP'''  JTiaidi;.-!^  You  will  hnvc  mnny  a  man, 
whom,  if  you  follow  co_  bis  eluiinlwr,  you  shall  litid  very  devout  j 
and  they  pniy  liourtily  for  the  merey  of  God,  «nd  forgivwesa 
of  slas  1  but  follow  ihem  out  of  their  chambers,  wulch  tbcir  dis- 
ooiiiVK-x,  you  shjtll  And  it  fmihy  and  vain,  and  now  and  then 
powdirred  with  faitli  and  troth,  and  obscene  specehe*.  Wulch 
them  when  tliey  are  cniii«ed,  yon  shall  see  them  as  angry  aa' 
waojis.  and  swell  like  turkeys  and  m  spit  out  their  venom  Ilk* 
drojiani.  W'liteh  them  in  iheir  jonrncys,  and  you  shuil  see  Ihem 
shijut  into  Bii  ale-house,  and  then:  >will  and  itwaggt^r,  and  bo  fa- 
miliar with  the  scum  of  the  eounlry  for  profnnencss,  and  half 
drunk,  too,  ■ouieiiues.     Walch  ihuiu  on  the  Lord's  dnyt  t^A 


MtJM 
en    ™ 

i 


98  THE    BINCBRE    COSVERT.  ■ 

them  out  of  the  church  once,  and  set  a»ide  Iheir  best  clothe^' 

and  they  are  then  ihe  same  da  at  another  time;  and,  becftuss 

they  must  not  work  nor  sport  that  daj,  tbej  think  thej  may 

.,  r  with  a  good  conscienee  sleep  the  longer  on  the  morning.     Ask, 

|1(m;,  such  men  how  thej  ho{>e  to  be  saved,  seeing  their  lives  are 

IsoTiad !  they  say,  though  they  make  not  such  shows,  they  know 

,    jwhiit  good  prayers  they  make  in  private  ;  (hpir  henri*^  \|<^fy  ««f, 

■  Mre  good.     I  lell  ye,  brethren,  he  ihal  truslelb  to  his  own  heart 

|an<I  Tiis^good  desires,  and  so  resleth  in  them,  is  n  fool.     I  hava 

heard  of  a  man  that  would  haunt  the  taverns,  and  theaters,  am' 

whore  houses  at  London  all  day ;  but  he  durst  not  go  fortl 

vrithout  private  prayer  in  a  morning,  and  tlien  would  say,  at  hi 

departure.  Now,  devil,  do  thy  worst ;  and  so  used  his  prayers    ' 

(as  many  do)  only  as  charms  and  spells  ngninat  the  poor,  weak, 

cowardly  devil,   that  they   think  dares  not  hurt   them,  so   long 

as   they   have  good  hearts  within  tliem,  and  good  prayers  in 

their  chambers  ;  and  hence  they  will  go  near  to  rail  against  the 

preacher  as   a  harsh   master,   if  he   do  not  comfort  them   with  J 

this  —  that  God  accepts  of  iheir  good  desires.  I 

4.  If  their  good  hearts  can  not  quiet  them,  but  conscience  tells 
them  they  are  unsound  without,  and  rotten  at  core  within,  then 
men  fall  upon  reformation  ;  they  will  leave  their  whoring,  drink- 

5'ng,  cozening,  gaming,  company-keeping,  swearing,  and  such 
ike  roaring  sins ;  and  now  all  the  country  saith  he  is  become  a 
-  Jnew  man,  and  he  himself  thinks  he  shall  he  saved  ;  (2  Pet.  ii. 
20 ;}  they  escape  the  pollutions  of  the  world,  as  swine  ihnt  are 
escaped  and  washed  from  outward  filth  ;  yet  the  swinish  nature 
remwns  still  j  like  mariners  that  are  going  to  some  dangerous 
place,  ignorantly,  if  they  meet  with  storms,  they  go  not  back- 
ward, but  cast  out  their  goods  that  endanger  tlieir  ship,  and  so  go 
forward  still ;  so  many  a  man,  going  toward  hell,  is  forced  to 
cast  out  his  lusts  and  sins  ;  but  he  goeth  on  in  the  same  way  still 
ifor  all  that.  The  wildest  beasts,  (as  stags,)  if  they  be  kept 
waking  from  sleep  long,  will  grow  tame  ;  so  conscience  giving  a 
man  no  rest  for  some  sins  he  liveth  in,  he  groweth  tame  :  he  that 
was  a  wild  gentleman  before  remains  the  same  mafiTttlT  only  he 
is  made  tame  now ;  that  is,  civil  and  smooth  in  his  whole 
course ;  and  hence  they  rest  in  reformation,  which  reformation 
Is,  comhionly,  but  from  some  troublesome  sin,  and  it  is  because 
they  think  it  is  better  following  their  trade  of  sin  at  another  mar- 
ket 1  and  hence  some  men  will  leave  their  drinking  and  whoring, 
and  turn  covetous,  because  there  is  more  gain  at  that  market; 
limes  it  is  because  sin  hath  left  them,  as  an  old  man. 
If  they  can  have  no  rest  here,  they  get  into  another  starts  J 


THE   aiHCERK    CONVERT. 

ing  hole:  ifaey  go  to  their  humiliations,  repenlings,  I 
tvws,  and  confeaaiona.     They  hear  a  man  caii  Doi  be  aaved  by 
reforming  hia  life,  unless  be  come  to  nfBict  his  soul  too  ;  he  must 
Borrow  Kxd  weep  here,  or  else  cry  out  in  hell  hereafter.     Here- 
upon they  betake  themaelTes  to  Uieir  sorrows,  tears,  confession 
of  sins  ;  and  now  the  wind  is  down,  and  the  tempest  is  over,  aud 
they  make  themselves  safe.     (Matt.  si.  1.)     They  would  have 
repented  ;  that  is,  the  heathen,  as  Beza  speaks,  when  any  wrath 
was  kindled  from  Heaven,  ihey  would  go  to  their  sackcloth  and 
sorrows,  andyflo  thought  to  pacify  God's  anger  again  ;  and  here 
they  rested.'  So  it  is  with  many  a  man  ;|niany  people  have  sic^) 
fits  and  qualms  of  conscience,  and  then  they  do  as  crows,  that  ] 
give  themselves  a  vomit  by  swallowing  down  some  stone  when  f\ 
3)ey  are  sick,  and  then  ihey  are  well  again  ;  so  when  men  are  f 
troubled  for  their  sins,  they  will  give  themselves  a  vomit  of  I 
prayer,  a  vomit  of  confession  and  humiliation.    (Is.  Iviii.  o.)  \ 
Hence  many,  when  they  can  get  no  good  by  this  physic,  by  iLeir 
florrows  and  tears,  cast  off  all  again  ;  for,  making  these  things 
ibeir  God  and  their  Christ,  they  forsake  them  when  they  can  not 
save  them.    (MatL  iii.  14.)     Uore  are  driven  to  Christ  by  the 
•ense  of  the  burden  of  a  hard,  dead,  blind,  filthy  heart  than  by 
the  sense  of  sorrows,  because  a  man  rests  in  the  one,  viz.,  in 
■orruws,  most  commonly,  but  Irtrmbles  and   flies   out  of  him-     /^ 
aelf  when    he    feels    the    other.      Thus  men    rest    in    their    re-  V 
iwniance ;  and  therefore  Austin    hath    a   preiiy  speech  which 
aounda  harsh,  that  repentance  damncth  more  than  sin  ^meaning 
dist  thouMtids  llW~;>tii»h  by  resting  in  It;  and  lience  we  see, 
-tUDong  many  people,  if  ihey  have  large  affection!>,  they  think 
they  are  in  good  favor  ;  if  they  want  them,  they  think  Ihey  are 
CMtAWays,  when  they  can  not  mourn  nor  be  affected  as  once  they 
Vere,  becaase  they  rest  in  them. 

6.  If  llicy  have  no  resl  here,  then  they  turn  moral  men  ;  that 
it,  strict  in  all  the  duties  of  the  moral  law,  which  is  a  greAter 
matter  than  reformation  or  humiliation  ;  that  is,  Ihey  grow  very 
just  apd  Bijuare  in  their  dealings  wiih  men,  and  exceeding  strict 
in  the  duties  of  the  tirsl  table  toward  God.  as  fasting,  prayer, 
hearing,  reading,  observing  the  SLkbbalh  :  and  tlms  ihe  Pharisees 
lived,  and  hence  they  are  called  "  the  strict  sect  of  the  Phari- 
■ees."  Take  heed  you  mistake  me  not;  I  speak  not  against 
■trictness,  but  agaiajt  resting  in  it ;  for  except  your  righteous- 
■KM  exceed  |faeirs,  you  s^all  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.  You  shall  find  these  men  fly  from  base  persons  and 
^aCOT,  lik«  the  pest  houses,  commend  the  best  books,  cry  down 
i|]m  >iiu  of  the  time,  and  cry  against  civil  or  moral  tnen,  (the 


I 


J 


i  tap  H 


98  THK   SIXCeUB   CONVERT. 

pyc  PCS  not  iisplf,)  nml  cry  np  ncal  ani)  forwarilncHS 
with  hitn  nlxtu:  muiiy  mnral  diiiics  (hut  arc  to  lie  done  loirard 
Goii  or  man.  lie  will  sjicnk  well  nboul  Ihc  cxctillencv  uad  neces- 
*iiy  of  it,  1iec»UBe  his  trailt  nnJ  ckill,  wliereby  he  hopes  lo  get 
bis  living!  nnd  tarn  piernnl  life,  liclh  lh(>rf ;  but  spt^ak  about 
Christ,  und  living  by  failb  in  him  and  Irom  him.  and  Wtomin^ 
the  soul  ii])Oti  the  promises,  (pieres  of  cvniiitdicul  ripbirous- 
nti-w.)  Ill'  lliat  is  vtry  i^kilirul  in  any  point  of  foiitnivcn'y  if  ns 
ijttiuriiiit  iilnioHi  Hs  a  bL-asl,  wbca  he  is  I'Xiiminud  hi/rt-.  licnt-f, 
it'  mitiislors  pri'ncli  n;;^in!>l  iho  sins  of  (he  tiina,  ihcy  ivmnif  n<l  rt 
for  A  special  si-i-mon,  (ns  it  haply  deserves,  too ;)  but  let  him 
Japeak  of  any  FpiritunI,  inward,  loiil- working  )>olnts.  Ilipy  go  aivny 
and  say  hi;  wns  in  lla-ir  judgment  confuiwd  nnd  ol>6<'urc ;  tap 
their  pert  ihi-y  umlfrnlood  liim  iiot.  (Beloved.)  |iieiiir 
prcliy  ihiiigri  to  look  mi,  and  ihai  i.-^  all  the  (loodnc-  of  ihi 
tht»e  im^n  arc.  (as  Chi'lnt  looked  on  and  loved  the  natural  . . 
mnn  in  Iha  ^oi^iiel,)  and  that  is  all  thrir  excelli?m-y.     Ymi  Ki 

(in  Kuah's  Hood.  Jtil  lliat  were  not  in  the  ark.  though  they  did 
climb  and  get  to  the  top  of  the  lalleH  mouniaina,  ihey  were 
drowBaili  8o  labor  to  climb  nevor  so  hijfh  in  morality,  and  the 
duties  of  both  tables,  if  (hou  goest  not  into  God's  ark,  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  thou  art  sura  to  p^ri^h  eternntty. 

/7.  If  they  have  no  rest  here  in  ihelr  morality,  they  grow  hot 
within,  and  turn  marveluas  zcuIdub  for  good  causes  aad  courses; 
and  there  they  stay  and  wariH"lEemi>elve8  ai  their  6WH  llrB  !  Kins 
Paul  (Phil.  iii.  6)  was  Koaloiis,  and  there  rented.  They  will 
not  live,  iw  many  do,  like  snails  in  their  shells,  but  rsiilicr  than 
they  will  be  damned  for  want  of  doing,  they  are  content  to  give 
awuy  their  esiaie,  children,  any  thing  almost,  to  get  pardon  for 
'    the  sin  of  their  soal.  (Micali  vi,  7.) 

8.  If  they  find  no  help  from  hence,  but  are  forced  to  see  and 
eay,  wbca  they  have  done  all,  they  are  iinproStablc  servants,  and 
they  sin  in  all  that  which  Ibey  <to.  then  they  re^t  ia  that  whitrb 

I  ia  like  to  evangelical  obe^icnee ;  they  think  to  pleane  God  by 
*i  mourning  for  ilieir  failings  in  their  good  duties,  desiring  to  bo 
better,  and  promising  'or  the  time  lo  come  lo  be  so,  and  thcrohw  U; 
rest.  (Deut.  v.  29.) 

9.  If  they  feel  a  want  of  all  these,  then  they  dig  within  Ihem- 
aolves  for  power  lo  leave  sin,  power  to  be  more  holy  ajid  huuble, 

,  and  BO  think  to  work  out  tliemaelves,  in  time,  out  of  this  estate, 
•J  and  so  they  dig  for  pearls  in  their  own  dunghills,  and  will  not  be 

Jieholding  to  the  Lord  Je.sns :  to  live  on  him  in  the  want  of  all ; 
liey  ihink  to  set  up  themselves  out  of  their  own  slock,  witliout 
Jesus  ClirisI,  and  so,  as  the  iirophet  Uosca  speaks,  (xi     '    ' 


THE  SUtCKRE    CONTERT. 

tliink  to  save  Ibemselves,  by  their  ridiiis  oq  h^rGee,  itiat  is,  by  ^  ' 
"heir  own  abiUlii'8.  ■<■     ./  -  i-     i  *■*-•    ;.t-~-^.    '  '    ri-~i^ 

10.  It'  tbey  fuel  no  help  bere,  then  iHey  go  unto  Chrisl  for 
grace  wid  power  lo  leave  sin  and  do  better,  whereby  they  may  ■ 
•arc  themsclvea ;  and  so  they  live  upon  Christ,  that  they  may     j^ 
Kve  of  Ibemaelves  i  tbey  go  unto  Christ,  they  get  not  into  Christ,*^' 
(Ps.  Ixsviii.  34,  35,)  like  birelinga  that  go  for  power  to  do  iheir 
work,  ibat  tbey  tnay  earn  tbeir  wages.     A  child  of  God  contents 
himself  with,  and  lives  upon,  the  inheritance  itself  the  Lord  in 
his  free  mercy  Imtb  given  him.     But  now  we  eball  see  m^ny 
poor  Christians  iJiat  run  in  tlie  very  road  ihe  Pji|)iai5  devoutly    ' 
ohell  10/ 

irst.  The  Papist  will  confess  his  misery,  that  he  is  (and  all 
men  are)  by  nature  a  child  of  wrath,  and  under  the  powfr  of  ein 
and  Salnn. 

Secondly.     They  hold  Chiret  is  the  onlj^aviour. 

Tbinlly.     That  this  salvation  id  not  by  any  righteousness  in  a 
Christ,  but  righteousness  from  a  Christ,  only  by  giving  a  man    , 
power  to  do,  and  tlicn  dipping  men's  doings  in  his  blood,  be' 
merits  their  life.     Thus  the  wisest  and  devoteet  of  them  pro- 
less,  as  1  am  able  to  manifesl  i  just  so  do  many  Christiana  live. 
First.    They  feel  IbeniBelvca  full  of  sin,  and  are  sometimes  tired 
and  weary  of  themselves,  for  tbeir  vile  hearts,  and  they  find  no    ' 
power  to  help  themselves.     Secondly.     Hereupon  bearing  tliat 
only  Christ  can  save  tbem,  tbey  go  unto  Christ  to  remove  these 
•  Bins  llint  lire  tbem,  and  load  tbem,  that  be  would  enable  them  to 
do  better  than  formerly.     Thirdly.    If  they  get  ibcse  sins  subdued     J 
And  removed,  and  if  they  find  power  to  do   CiJHt'r,  then  theyN^ 
Aope  they  shall  l>e  saved  :  whereas  thou  mayest  be  damned,  and 
go  to  the  devil  at  the  last,  although  thou  dost  escjipQ  all  the  pol- 
kilinns  of  th«  world,  and  Ibat  not  from  thyself  and  strength,  but 
6om  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ.  (2  Pel.  ii.  20.)    !  say,  wm 
to  you  forever  if  yuu  die  iii  this  estate  i  it  is  with  our  Christians 
jn  this  cose  as  it  isniili  the  ivy,  which  Hasps -and  gruweth  about 
Aio  tree,  and  draws  sap  from  the  tree,  but  it  grows  not  one  with 
(he  lr«f%  l>e(3iuse  it  is  not  ingmlTed  into  the  tree ;  so  many  a'soill 
'Cometh  lo  Christ,  to  suck  juice  from  Christ  lo  maintain  bii 
berries,  (his  own  atoek  of  grace :)  nks !  he  is  but  ivy,  he 
Biember  or  branch  of  this  tree,  aiid  hence  he  never  grows  to  he 
«ir.  with  Christ.     2,  Now,  the  reasons  why  men  rest  in  thejt_ 
lulieiurr.  th<r*h:_  / 

FlmU  IWaii"e  it  is  niiiural  lo  a  man  out  of  Christ  to  ilo  so.  L 
Adam  nud  all  hU  |M)*lcrily  were  to  be  saviil  by  hi»  doing:  "  DoV' 
"  is  tuul^ivet"  work,  and  hero  is  thy  wages;  win  life,  and  wi 


100  THE   SINCEBB   COXVKRT. 

Hence  all  his  posterity  seeks  lo  tbis  daj  to  be  Eaved  by  doing;'  J 

I      like  falher,  like  sou.     Now,  lo  come  out  of  tUI  duties  truly  to  K  4 

Christ,  haih  not  so  much  a^  a  coat  in  innocent,  much  less  coi^  J 

Tuptt-d  nature ;  hence  men  seek  to  themselves.  Now,  as  it  ii  ] 
with  a  bankrupt,  when  his  stock  is  spent,  &nd  his  estate  cracked, 
before  he  will  turn  prentice,  or  live  u{>on  another,  he  will  turn 
peddler  of  small  wares,  and  bo  follow  his  old  trade  with  a  less 
stock  :  so  men  naturally  follow  their  old  trade  of  iluiaShSnd  hope 
to  ^t  their  living  that  way;  and  hence  men,  having  no  ex- 
perience of  trading  with  Christ  by  faith,  live  of  Ihemselvea. 
Samson,  when  all  his  strength  was  lost,  would  go  to  shake  him* 
self  as  at  other  times ;  BO  when  men's  strength  is  lost,  and  God 
and  grace  are  lost,  yet  men  will  go  and  try  how  tliey  can  live 

,  by  shifks  and  working  for  themselves  still. 

!i  Secondly.  Because  men  are  ignorant  of  Jeeua  Christ  and  his  ' 
righteousness ;  hencc^nen  can  not  go  unto  him,  because  they 
see  bim  not  j  hence  tney  shifV  as  well  as  they  can  for  themselves 
by  their  duties.  (John  iv.  14.)  Men  seek  to  save  themselves  by 
their  own  swimming,  when  they  see  no  cable  cast  out  to  help  them. 
Thirdly.  Because  this  is  the  easiest  way  lo  comfort  the  heart, 
wid  pacify  conscience,  and  lo  please  God,  a£  ihe  soul  thinkai 
because  by  this  means  a  man  goes  no  farther  than  himself.  j 

Now,  in  forsaking  all  duties,  a  soul  goeth  to  heaven  quite  oat  ] 
of  himself,  and  there  he  must  wait  many  a  year,  and  Iliat  for  % 
lillle,  it  may  be.     Now,  if  a  fainting  man  have  arpia  nla  ot  hit 
bed's  head,  he  will  not  knock  up  the  shopkeeper  for  iL     Men 

.jihat  liave  a  balsam  of  their  own  to  heal  tliem  will  not  go  to  the 
physician. 

Fourthly.     Because  by  virtue  of  these  duties  a  man  may  hide 

vliis  sin,  and  live  quietly  in  his  sin,  yet  be  accounted  an  honest 
man,  Eks  the  whore  in  Prov.  vii.  15,  IG,  having  performed  her 
vows,  can  enlic«  without  suspicion  of  men  or  check   of  con- 
science;  so  the  scribes  apd  Pharisees  were  horribly  covetous  . 
but  their  long  prayers  covered  their  deformities,  (Matt,  xxiii.  14;)  1 
and  hence  men  set  their  duties  nt  a  higher  rale  than  they  are'  I 
worth,  thinking  Ihey  shall  save  ibera  because  they  are  so  useful  I 
to  them.     Good  duties,  like  new  apparel  on  a  man  pursued  with.! 
~"  liue  and  cry  of  conscience,  keep  him  from  being  known.  r 

,1      Take  heed  of  resting  in  duties  ;  good  duties  are  men's  money, 

i  without  which  they  think  themselves  poor  and  miserable ;  but 

'  take  heed  that  you  and  your  money  perish  not  together.  (Gal. 

'  v.  3.)     The  paths  to  hell  are  but  two.     The  6rEt  is  the  path  of 

^  sin,  which  i^  a  dirty  way.     Secondly,  the  path  of  duties,  which 

(rested  in)  is  but  a  clearer  way.     ^Vbeu  the  Israelites  wen 


r 

1 

1. 

r 

b 

J 


Ttie  siNCEBE  cosvun. 

En  distress,  (Judg.  x.  1 4,)  the  Lord  bids  then)  fy>  to  ibe  go^ 
Ihey  sent^d;  so  ulien  lliou  ilirdt  lie  boirling  «ii  thy  dmlb  bed, 
the  Lord  will  say.  Go  anio  llie  goud  pranTs  ami  prrforrnnncrd 
j^oii  hnvc  iDitdr,  and  the  loars  you  have  Hh(.-d>  O,  iIifj  will  be 
misemMe  miinfurccrs  ai  ihat  day. 

Ob/eeliun.     But  I  tliink  thou  will  fuy,  no  tnie  Cbrii 
hupes  lu  be  ssvud  bj  bis  good  works  aud  duties,  but  oidy  bjr  ti 
mei-cy  of  God  and  nioriu  of'ChrisL 

Awittr.  It  if  one  thing  to  Iniat  to  be  sared  by  duties,  nnothe^ 
tiling  lo  rest  in  dutitai.  A  man  trusts  lifalo  lliem  when  be  i*-of 
this  opinion,  that  only  good  duties  can  save  hint.  A  man  reMs 
in  dutiu  when  he  ia  of  this  opinion,  tbni  only  Christ  r 
him.  but  in  bin  practice  he  goeth  about  to  nave  himselT.  I'lie  lj 
witipst  of  the  PnpBBra^fc  at  this  day,  and  so  i 
Protestants.  And  this  ie  a  great  subtlety  of  the  heart,  that  is, 
when  a  man  thinks  he  can  not  be  fared  by  his  good  works  and 
duties,  but  only  by  Clirisi :  he  then  hupeth,  because  ho  in  of  this 
opinion,  that  when  he  hath  done  all  he  is  an  unprntiiabic  s«rvanti 
(which  is  only  an  act  or  work  of  the  judgment  informed  aright  i)y 
nut,  therefore,  becaaise  he  ts  of  ibis  opinion,  he  shall  be  snted,  v 

But  because  it  is  hurd  for  to  know  when  a  niiui  rests  in  duties, . 
and  few  wen  Rud  themselves  guilty  of  this  sin,  nbii-h  ruins  so 
many,  I  will  sbuw  two  things: —  .  ^ 

1.  The  signs  of  a  man's  resting  in  duties.  >/  J 

2.  The  insufhciency  of  nil  duties  to  snve  men;  that  so  thoseV 
that  be  found  guilty  o(  tliis  »in  may  nut  go  on  in  it. 

Kirel.  For  the  signs  whereby  a  man  may  cerlidnly  know,  wli<'n 
he  rests  ill  bis  duties,  which  if  he  do,  (us  few  professm-s  win'riiilly 
but  they  do,}  he  pcrifiheth  eternally. 

First.  Those  (hat  yet  nevrr  saw  lliey  rested  in  Ihem,  tlioy  that 
sevftr  found  it  u  hard  mailer  to  eouie  out  of  their  duties.  For  it 
Js  most  nntuml  for  a  man  to  stick  in  ihem,  bcc«u*e  nature  ■I'to 
aen  U|ion  duties;  hence  it  is  a  hard  mnlter  to  come  out  of  ruttlug 
in  duiii^.     For  two  things  ki^i-p  a  man  from  Christ : — 

1.  Sin,  a.  Self.  Now,ttittman  is  broken  otf  from  sin  byMtnini^ 
And  feeling  il,  AIIII  gruiuiing  under  lh«  power  of  h,  no  i*  a  uiun 
broken  from  himself.  For  men  hnd  mihcr  do  any  thing  llian 
eoine  unto  Christ,  there  is  sucii  a  deal  of  self  in  ilicin  ;  ilicw-forc, 
if  ibon  hast  no  expcrienfe,  that  at  no  time  thou  hn^t  rested  too 
nucb  in  thy  duties,  and  then  didst  groan  to  be  delivered  from 
tbf«e  Mitangleinenis,  (I  mean  not  from  tlipdoitiK  of  tliem.  —  ilii«  Is 
^ftinilism  iukI  pnitiinenesa,  —  but  from  r>-4tiiigin  the  biireprrlVirm. 
^e«  of  them.)  thou  dosi  rely  upon  thy  dutlc*  lo  this  day. 
I    Thew  rest  in  duties,  that  prijc  the  bora  pcrformauco  of  dutl«t 


102 


THE    SIKCERB   COKTEBT. 


beiDa    i 


wonderfully  ;  for  those  duliea  (hat  carry  tliee  out  of  thyself 
Christ  mnke  Ihee  to  prize  ClinsC.  Now,  lell  roe,  dost  thou  glory 
in  thyself?  Now  I  am  somebody.  Iwna  ignonml.  forgetful,  hanl- 
henrted ;  now  I  understand,  and  remember  better,  and  can 
sorrow  for  my  sins:  if  ihon  dost  rest  here,  thy  duties  never 
carried  Ihee  farther  than  ihyRetf.  Dost  thou  think,  after  that 
thou  hast  prayed  with  some  life.  Now  I  have  done  very  well,  and 
now  thou  dost  verily  think  (meaning  for  thy  duties)  the  Lord 
will  gave  tliee,  though  thou  never  come  lo  Christ,  and  saycsl, 
be  in  another  case,  "  Now  1  hope  the  Lord  will  do  good  to 
eeeing  I  have  got  a  priest  into  my  house."  (Judg.  xvii.  13.)  I 
thou  enhance  the  price  of  duties  thus,  that  thou  dost  dote 
them  ?  Then  I  do  pronounce  from  God,  thou  dost  rest  in  IheiDa 
"  These  things  "  (saiih  Paul)  "  I  counted  gain,"  (that  is,  before 
his  conversion  lo  Christ,  he  prized  them  exceedingly,)  but  "  now 
I  account  them  loss."  And  tins  is  tlie  reason  wliy/a  child  of 
vlwodi  commonly,  after  all  his  prayers,  tears,  and  confessions,  doubt^ 
'much  of  God's  love  lowmij  him  ;  whereas  another  man,"  that 
fki!efh~ehort  oT  him,  tieyer  (^fstigns  his  estate ;  the 

iDil^h  rQ"^"££!L  and  vileness  in  his  best  JiitlESTftid 

meanly  oTJiBserFf" the  other.  Ignorant  oOEe  vileness  of  ihen^ 

prize tlijli em,  and  esteemeth  highly  of  them  ;  and  setting  his  cMV^i 

,  at  so  high  a  price,'ne' may  keep  them  to  himself ;  the  LordnevO*' 

\  accepietli  them,  nor  buyeth  them  at  so  high  a  rate.  i 

\       'Ihirdly.     Those  that  never  came  lo  be  aejisible  of  their  pcnn^ 

*4  erty  and  utter  emptiness  of  all  good :  for  so  long  as  a  man  hAtH 

a  penny  in  his  purse,  that  is,  feels  any  good  in  himself,  he  wiBj 

never  come  a-begging  unto  Jesus  Christ,  and  therefore  rests  ia 

himself.     Now,  didst  lliou  never  feel  thyself  in  Ibis  manner  poor, 

viz.,  I  am  as  ignorant  as  any  beast,  aa  vile  as  any  deviL    O  Lord, 

what  a  nest  and  Utter  of  sin  and  rebellion  lurk  in  my  heart  I 

I  once  thought  at  least  my  heart  and  desires  were  good,  hut  now 

J  I  feel  no  spiritual  life.     O  dead  heart !    I  am  the  poorest,  vilest, 

r  basest,  and  blindest  creature  that  ever  lived.     If  thou  dost  not 

thufi  feel  thyself  poor,  thou  never  camcst  out  of  thy  duties ;  for 

when  the  Lord  bringeih  any  man  to  Christ,  he  brings  him  Qlll£lyi 

o  he  may  make  him  beholding  to  Christ  for  every  farthing 

Fourthly.  Those  that  gain  no  .evangelical  righteousness  by 
dntiea,  rest  in  duties ;  I  suy,  evangelical  right eousness,  that  is 
1  prizing  of  acquaintance  with,  desire  after,  loving  and  de- 
lighting in  union  with  the  Lord  Jesua  Christ ;  for  a  mortal  man 
may  grow  in  legal  righteousness,  (as  the  stony  and  thorny  ground 
(eed  sprang  up,  and  increased  much,  and  came  near  unto 


i 


THE  aotcssK   COrVCRT.  lOS 

Tity,)  and  jet  ml  ia  duties  all  this  while.  For  a;  it  ia 
tradesmen,  ihef  rest  in  their  buying  and  selling,  though  ihej 
make  no  gain  of  their  trading.  Now  Je^sus  Christ  is  a  Christian'^ 
gain.  (Phil.  i.  21 ;)  and  hence  a  cliild  of  God  asks  himself  afrer 
¥ernion,  after  prajer,  ofler  saerauenl.  What  have  1  gained  uf^y 
Christ  ?  Hare  I  got  more  Icnoirledge  of  ChrUt,  more  admiring 
of  the  Lord  Jesus?  Now,  a  carnal  bean,  that  rests  in  his  duties, 
asketh  only  what  he  hath  done,  aa  the  Pharisee :  "  I  thank  Gud 
I  am  not  as  other  men  ;  I  fa:dl  twice  a  week,  I  give  alms,"  and 
the  like;  and  thinks  verily  he  shall  be  saved,  hecau^e  he  prajs, 
and  because  he  hears,  and  becau.9e  he  reforms,  and  because  he 
•orrows  for  his  sins ;  that  is,  not  because  of  ihc  gainbg  of  Christ 
in  a  duty, but  because  of  his  naked  performance  of  Ihe  duty  ;  and 
to  they  are  like  that  man  that  I  have  heard  of,  that  thought  verily 
be  should  be  rich,  because  he  ha<I  got  a  wallet  to  beg :  so  men, 
because  they  perform  duties,  ihink  verily  they  shall  be  gaved._^ 
No  such  matter  /  let  a  man  have  a  bucket  made  of  gold ;  doth  he 
tbink  to  get  water  because  he  hath  a  bucket?  No,  no  ;  he  must 
let  it  down  into  the  well,  and  dmw  up  water  with  it :  so  must 
tbou  let  down  all  thy  duties  into  Christ,  and  draw  light  and  life 
from  his  fullness,  else,  though  thy  duties  be  golden  duties,  thou 
riialt  perish  without  ChrisL  Wtien  a  man  bath  bread  in  hi^ 
Vallet,  and  got  water  in  his  bucket,  be  may  boldly  say.  So  long 
aa  these  last,  I  shall  not  famish  ;  so  maye^i  thou  gay,  when  thou 
bast  found  and  got  Christ,  in  the  performaaoe  of  any  duty.  So 
long  as  Christ's  life  lastelb,  I  shall  live ;  as  long  as  he  hath  any 
wisdom  or  power,  so  long  shall  I  be  directed  and  enabled  in 
well  doing. 

Fifthly.  If  thy  duties  make  thee  sin  mora  boldly,  thou  dost 
dien  rest  in  duties ;  for  these  duties,  which  carry  a  man  out  of  him- 
•elf  imto  CliriHt,  ever  fetch  power  against  sin  ;  but  duties  that  a 
man  rests  In  arm  him  and  fence  liim  in  bu  sin.  (Ia.  i.  14.)  A 
cart  that  hatb  no  wheels  to  rest  on  can  hardly  be  drawn  into 
|be  dirt ;  but  one  that  balh  wheels  cometh  loaded  through  it :  so 
«  child  of  God  that  hath  no  wheels,  no  duties,  to  rest  upon,  can 
401  willingly  he  drawn  into  sin  ;  but  another  man,  though  be  be 
loaden  with  sin,  (even  sometimes  against  his  conscience,)  yet 
baving  duties  to  bear  him  up,  goetL  merrily  on  in  a  sinful  course, 
ud  makes  no  bones  of  sin.  When  we  see  a  base  man  revilea 
great  prince,  and  strike  him,  we  say,  Surely,  he  durst  not  do 
ft  unlM*  be  bad  somebody  to  bear  him  out  in  it.  that  he  rests 
•od  truitt  HOto:  10  when  we  see  men  sin  against  the  great  God, 
pe  oonceivc,  certainly,  they  durst  not  do  it,  if  tbey  bad  not 
Mou  dotiai  to  bear  them  out  in  it,  and  to  •aatiinga  tham  io 
'  Aair  way,  tbat  thsy  trust  uato. 


104  THE   STXftKE   CONVERT. 

For,  take  a  profane  maii :  wliat  mnkes  him  drink,  ewi 
game,  whore  ?  Is  tln-re  no  God  to  piniish  ?  Is  [here  no  I  , 
hot  enough  to  torment  ?  Are  ther«  no  plagues  to  confound  him  ? 
Tcs,  Whysinnelh  he  so  [hen?  0,  hepmjetli  to  God  for  forjiiTe- 
ne^is,  nnd  M>rroweth,  njid  repeals  in  eecret,  (n^  he  »ailL,)  nnd  this 
be«rs  him  up  in  bi»  lewd  pranks. 

Take  a  moral  man :  he  knows  he  halh  his  fdlinjxs,  and  his 
sins,  as  ihe  best  hare,  and  is  overtaken  sometimes  as  the  hest  are : 
why  doth  he  not  remove  ihe^ie  sins  then  ?  He  eonfessetii  them 
lo  God  every  moniiDg  when  he  risetli.  Why  is  he  not  more 
bumbled  nnder  hia  sin  then?     The  reason   is,  lie  constantly 

Jttbscrveih  morning  acid  ereoing  prayer,  and  then  he  craves  for- 
giveness for  his  faJlingB,  by  which  course  he  hopes  be  makes  hia 
peace  with  God  :  and  hence  ho^jtippih  ffjlbiitt*  '"ir.  P"i  int^l** 
out  of  his  fu11s^i!jtu.£iii-viUuiut^Qixi>iTi  .  -And  thus  they  see  nnd 
maintain  iTicir  sins  by  their  dulies,  and  therefore  rest  in  duties. 

Sixthly.  Those  that  see  little  of  their  vile  hearts  by  duties, 
rest  in  iheir  duties ;  for  if  a  man  be  brought  nearer  to  Christ, 
1  and  lo  the  light,  by  duties,  he  will  spy  out  more  motes;  for  the 

I  more  a  man  participates  of  Christ,  his  health,  and  life,  the  more 
J  he  feeleth  the  vileneas  and  sickness  of  sin.     As  Paul  when  he 

rested  in  duties  before  his  conversion,  before  that  the  law  had 
humbled  him,  he  was  alive ;  that  is,  be  thought  himself  a  sound 
man,  because  his  duties  covered  his  sins,  like  lig  leaves.  There- 
fore ask  thine  own  heart  if  it  be  troubled  sometimes  for  sin, 
and  if  after  thy  praying  and  sorrowing  thou  dosi  grow  well,  and 
tbinkest  thyself  safe,  and  feelest  not  thyself  more  (ile.  If  it 
be  thus,  I  tell  thee,  thy  duties  be  but  flg  leaves  to  cover  iLy 
nakedness,  and  the  Lord  will  find  thee  out,  and  unmask  ihee  one 
day:  and  woe  tu  thee  if  thou  dost  perish  here. 

Secondly.  Therefore  behold  the  insufficiency  of  all  duties  to 
save  us ;  which  will  appear  in  these  three  thin^  which  I  speak, 
that  you  may  learn  hereafter  never  to  rest  in  duties : — 

II  First.  Consider./lby  Jast  dulJe^jare  tainted,  poisoned,  and 
HminirlH  ^h  si —  irh  nn-f  ilirr-f-rr  rrr  most  odious  in  Iheejea 
Mof  a  holyGod,  (nakedly  and  barely  considered  in  themselves  jj^ 

for,  if  the  beat  actions'  of  God's  people  be  filthy,  as  they  eome 
from  them.  then,  to  be  sure,  all  wicked  men's  Actions  ai'e  much 
more  filthy  and  polluted  with  sin;  but  the  first  is  true — "All  our 
ri|;hieousn esses  are  as  filthy  rags  ; "  for  as  ^he  fountain  is  so  is  the  , 
J  stream  ;  but  ihe  fountain  of  all  good  actions  (that  is,  the  henrti 
J. is  mingled  pnrily  with  sin,  partly  with  grace  f  [Jii'^rcir^  "y^T7 
kglign  part  ii-i  pill  us  of  tmni.-  nin.  wlilfh  gins  are  daggei-s  at  God's 
heart,  even  nben  a  man  is  proyinfr  and  begging  for  his  lifat' 
[therefore  there  is  no  hope  to  lie  saved  by  duties.  Sfl 


TBE   SreCKRE    CONTBBt. 

Secondly.     Suppose  thou  couldest  perform  them  without  si 


I    jel  thou  eouldst  not  hold 
snd  the  glory  thereof  U  b 
n  wither  if  they  were  i 

'^  *  levere  in  performing  all  di 
though  thou  shouldest  do 


doing  so.    (Is.  xl.  6,}  "All  flesh 
So  thy  hest  actiona  would 
perfect :  and  if  thou  canst  not  perV 
es  perfectly,  thou  art  forever  undone/ 
for  a  time,  live  like  an  anget,  shine 
and.  at  thy  last  gasp,  have  but  an  idle  tliought,  ci 
mit  the  least  eio,  that  one  rock  will  sink  thee  down  even  in  th« 
haven,  though  never  so  richly  laden ;  one  sin,  like  a  penknife''' I 
St  the  heart,  will  stab  thee  ;  one  siii,  like  a  little  firestick  in  the  | 
thalcb,  will  burn  thee  ;  one  act  of  treason  ]Fiil  hang  thee,  tfaougli  | 
thou  hast  lived  never  so  devoutly  before,  (Ezek.  xviii.  24  ;)  forj 
it  is  a  crooked  life  when  all  the  parts  of  the  line  of  thy  life  be 
not  straight  before  Almighty  God- 
Thirdly.     Suppose  thou  ahouldest  persevere ;  yet  it  is  clear  y 
thou  hast  sinned  grievously  already ;  and  dost  thou  think  thine  I 
obedience  for  the  time  to  come  can  satisfy  the  Lord  for  all  those  I   7 
renU  behind,  for  all^tlioae  sins  paat?  as  can  a  man  that  pays  hisi* 
rent  honestly  every  year  eatisty  ~Eerehy  for  the  old  rent  not  paidp 
in  twenty  years?     All  Ihy  obedience  is  a  new  debt,  which  can 
not  satisfy  for  debts  past     Indeed,  men  may  forgive  wrong  and 
debts,  because  they  be  but  finite  i  but  thg^least^  is  an  inHnite 
evil,  and  therefore  God  must  be  satisfied  for  it.     ilea  may  ir^inTt 
3e&ts,  and  yet  remain   men;  but  the  Lord  having  said,  "The 
■oul  that  sinneth  shall  die,"  and  bis  truth  being  himself,  he  can 
Dot  remain  God,  if  he  foi^ve  it  without  satisfaction.    Tbafefow  I 
duties  are  but  rotten  crutches  for  a  soul  to  rest  upon.  ) 

But  to  what  end  should  we  use  any  duties  ?  Can  not  a  tnan 
be  saved  by  his  good  prayers,  nor  sorrows,  nor  repentinga? 
What  should  we  pray  any  more  then  ?  Let  us  cast  off  all  duties, 
if  all  are  to  no  purpose  to  save  us ;  as  good  play  for  nothing  as 
work  for  nothing. 

Though  thy  good  duties  ean  not  save  thee,  yet  thy  bad  wor^^ 
will  damn  thee.  Thou  art,  therefore,  not  to  cast  olT  the  ^uifes,  V 
&it  inrrEsting  in  these  djUies.  Thou  art  not  to  cast  ibem  away.ir 
bni  to  cd»  Ihem  down  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  they  did 
their  crowns,  (Rev.  iv.  10,  11,)  sayiog.  If  there  be  any  good  or 
rracea  in  these  duties,  it  is  thine.  Lord ;  for  it  is  the  prince's 
Ukvot  that  exalts  a  man,  not  Ids  own  gifts  :  they  came  from  bis  "i 
good  pleasure. 

"      thou  wilt  say.  To  what  end  should  I  perfonn  duties,  if  I 


But  thou  wiJt  sav^o  wl 

cminoIMUWaBJtWF 

*     For  these  three  ends :  — 


Fint  To  arrr  thee  to  the  Lord  JeiuB,  the  paly  SsTJOBT.  (H»b. 


f 


106  THE  SIKCintG   COSVEBT. 

vii.  25.)  np  only  is  able  to  save  (nbl  iluitL'^)  nil  iLnl  rame  nnl 
(hul  (llmt  is  i'l  il'c  ii^i-'  of  mean.')  by  liiiu.  ilcur  a  sermon  I 
carry  ihi-e  lo  Jesus  Cliridl  i  fasi  n»d  prnv,  niiU  gel  a  full  lirfe  « 
HfTectiuDS  in  thein  to  earry  lliee  to   the   Lord  Jesus  Oirist;  tlu 

union  wit*!  I'jift;  »fi  cnmug  fur  cTiy  sins  ihat  ihou  mayest  be  moi 
ffOeii  lor  C'lirist,  that  lliou  mayest  j>rize  Christ  the  more  ;  in 
lliy  duties  as  Nonb's  dove  did  her  wings,  to  carry  ihee  to  the  ai 

.  of  llie  Lord  Jesus  CIiHst,  where  only  there  is  rest.     If  she  In 
never  used  her  wiogs,  she  had  fallen  into  llie  waters ;  so,  if  thai 

^hult  use  no  duties,  but  cast  them  all  olT,  thou  art  sore  to  periet 

"Or,  as  it  ia  with  a  poor  man  that  is  to  go  over  a  greal  water  ft 
a  treasure  on  the  other  side,  though  he  ean  not  fetch  the  boat,  h 
calls  for  it ;  and,  though  there  be  no  treasure  in  the  boat,  yet  li 
useth  the  boat  to  carry  him  over  lo  the  treasure.  So  Cliriat  1 
in  heaven,  and  thou  on  earth  ;  he  doth  not  come  to  thee,  f 
thou  canst  not  go  lo  him  )  now  call  tor  a  boat ;  though  there  j 
no  grace,  no  good,  no  salvation,  in  a  pithless  duty,  yel 

'^arry  thee  over  lo  the  treaayro  —  the  Lord  Jesus  ChrlsL 
thou  comesTlo  liear,  say,  Have  over  Lord  by  this  sennon; 
thou  comcst  to  pray,  say.  Have  over  Lord  by  this  prayer 
Saviour.     Butp.his  is  the  misery  of  people.     Like  foolish  loven 

>  when  they  are  to  woo  for  the  lady,  they  fait  in  love  with  hsl 
handmaid  lliut  is  only  to  lead  tliera  to  her ;  so  men  fall  in  lOTfl! 
with,  and  dole  upon,  their  own  duties,  and  rest  contented  widt  ^ 
'  ,    the  naked  performance  of  them,  which  are  only  handmaids  to 

ilcad  the  soul  unto  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
■    Secondly.     T^'p  »lniifiH  ^a  Pvirlericea  of  God's   cvcrlnstinR  love 
to  ypii   wimii-yfiii  *"■   in  Cliriat:  for   the  trrflces   and   duties  ell' 
God's  iK!0|ile,  although  they  be  not  cause.'!,  yet  they  be  tuki 
and  pledjjes  of^saLtnUtjn  lo  one  in  Christ :  they  do  not  save 
man,  but  accompany  anil  follow  such  a  man  as  shall  be  save 

■  (tleb.  vi.  a.)  Let  a  man  boast  of  his  joys,  llelings,  girts,  spirit, 
grace,  it'  he  walks  in  the  commission  of  any  one 
aion  of  any  one  known  duty,  or  in  the  slovenly, 
fbnuunce  of  duties,  this  man,  I  say,  can  ha* 
without  flattering  himself.  (2  Pet.  i.  8,  0.  10.) 
fore,  being  evidences  and  pledges  of  salvation,  use  Id 

'  end,  and  make  much  of  them   therefore ;  as  a  man 
fair  evidence  for  his  lordship,  because  he  did  not  p 
lordship,  will  he  therefore  cast  it  away  ?     No,  no ;  hcc.'uife  i 
an  evidence  to  assure  him  that  it  is  liis  own ;  and  so,  to  del 

-  bim  against  all  such  as  seek  to  take  it  from  him,  lie  wilt  caief 
preserve  the  same;  so,  because  duties  dn  nni  !<ave  thee, 


ill-favored  per- 
i  no  assurance 

Duties,  iherfr^ 

:  them   lo  ihlQ 

hill  Imlh  i 


Till:  aiKctKK  ( 


VERT. 


lliou  wu't  awny  gotwl  duties  ?  No  ;  for  they  are  evidences  (if 
iliuu  uri  in  Ctiri&l)  ibat  tUe  Lord  and  mercy  aie  tliine  own.  Wi>- , 
men  will  not  C3»t  away  tlieir  lore  tokens,  ijlhaugli  l]iey  are  such 
things  as  did  not  purobuse  or  merit  the  love  of  ihi^ir  husbands; 
but  because  they  ore  tokuos  of  bU  love,  ihoroforc  tiiey  will  keep  t 

That    God  llie   Fatl]^^r  of  our   Lord  Jeaus  ChrJat  may  be 


orpij  by  HiC  iKTtorniuiicc  ol  lini^e  duticg,  tlirreloro  use  Ihenj, 
Uiinst  sKeil  Uis  hincMl  Hint  lie  iiiigni  {niruliiise  uMA  IjIiijirII'  a 
people  zealnus  of  good  wurk-s  (Til.  li.  11.)  not  (o  £uve  onr  souls 
i>y  lliera,  but  to  honor  him.  O.  let  not  Ibe  blood  of  Christ  be 
6b«l  in  vain  I  Urace  and  good  duties  arc  a  CItrislian'*  crown; 
it  is  eiu  only  makes  a  man  ba^e.  Now,  shall  a  king  cast  away 
his  cro>vni  becST(s'6  ho  bougDi  not  bis  kingdom  by  ii?  No ;  be- 
caus«  it  ia  his  ornament  and  glory  to  wear  it  when  he  is  made  ft 
kiuK.  So  I  eay  unto  thee.  It  ia  better  that  Christ  should  be  hoD- 
ored  Ihun  iby  soul  saved  ;  and,  therefore,  perform  duties,  beeaase 
thtjy  honor  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  Thus  use  thy  duties,  but 
rvi«t  ijot  iu  duties ;  nay,  go  out  of  duties,  apd  match  thy  soul  to 
the  LonlJeaus;  lake  him  for  better  and  for  worse;  »a  lire  in 
him  and  U)>on  him  all  thy  days. 

gourllijy.  Ity  n-ason  of  man's  headstrong  presumption,  qc 
ftUo  liulli.  wlitTpliy  men  seek  lo  save  themselves  by  enlctiing 
'  liold  on  Cbrisl,  wlieu  they  see  alt  insutlicieney  in  all  duties  lo 
help  them,  and  ihemBclvM  unworthy  of  mercy  ;  for  this 
'JmI  and  noosl  danj^roiiH  rock  that  tbesc  times  arc  split  n] 
Alcn  make  a  bridg''  "f  ibcir  own  to  curry  tlicm  to  ChrisL 
«n,  they  look  not  idV  ,-  i.iliIi  wTou);hl  by  an  omnijiotenl  power, 
ieh  the  eternal  Kiiirit  ol'  the  Lard  Jesus  must  wurli  in  tbem, 
but  they  content  themselves  with  a  faith  of  ih«ir  own  forging 
And  framing ;  and  hence  they  think  verily  and  boliove  that 
'.Christ  is  their  sweet  Saviour,  and  lo  doubt  not  but  they  are  Mtffl, 
I  i-neh  mniicr  1  hut  even  ns  dugs  tliey  match 
^  Away  children's  breiid,  and  sliull  Im:  shut  out  of  doors  (out  of 
keaven  hereafter  forever)  for  their  hkbor.  — 

B  opinion,  ihtU  there  is  no  salvation  but  by 
i.ttir  merits  of  Jesus  Christ  i  and  because  they  hold  fast  this  oiuii- 
•ion,  therefore  tliey  think  Ihey  hold  fast  Jesus  Christ  in  the  band 
i.of  faith,  and  so  perish  by  catching  ut  their  own  catch,  and  hang- 
,  inic  on  ilteir  own  fancy  and  sluulow.  Some  olhi^r*  catch  hold  of 
fChrisl  before  tliey  come  to  feel  the  want  of  I'aiib  and  ability  to 
,1)elievv,  anil  eaiehiiig  hold  on  him,  (like  dust  on  a  man's  coat, 
[Whom  tiod  will  shako  off,  or  like  burs  and  briers,  cleaving  to 
's  ganncnl,  whieb  tliu  Lord  will  trample  under  fool,)  nows^ 


i 


they,  they  thank  Grod,  Ihej  hfire  got  ntmfort  bj  this  means,  and 
though  God  killetb  tlieio,  yet  they  will  trust  unto  him.  (Micah 

Lb.") 

It  ii  in  this  respect  a  harder  mailer  to  convert  a  man  in  Eng- 
land than  in  the  Iiidiii,  for  there  they  have  no  suuh  shifts  and 
forta  against  our  sermons;  to  say  they  believe  in  Christ  already, 
as  most  amongst  ua  do,  we  can  not  rap  off  men's  fingers  from 
catching  hold  on  Christ  before  they  are  tit  for  him  ;  lilie  a  coni' 
pany  of  thieves  in  the  street,  you  shall  see  a  hundred  hiinds 
scrambling  for  a  jewel  that  is  fallen  there,  that  have  least,  nay, 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  Every  man  saith,  almoet,  I  hope  Christ 
is  mine  ;  I  put  my  whole  trust  and  cwifidence  in  him,  and  will  not 
be  beaten  from  this.  What!  must  a  man  despair?  must  not  a 
man  trust  unto  Christ?  Thus  men  will  hope  and  trust,  though 
they  have  no  ground,  no  graces  to  prove  ihey  may  lay  hold  and 
claim  unto  ChrisL  This  hope,  scared  out  of  his  wits,  damns  ihou- 
sands ;  for  I  am  persuaded,  if  men  did  see  themselves  Christ- 
■  ^  less  creatures,  as  well  as  sinful  creatures,  they  would  cry  out, 
"  Lord,  what  shall  I  do  to  be  eaved  ?  " 

This  faith  is  a  precious  faith.  (2  Pet.  i.  2.)  Precious  things 
cost  much,  and  wc  set  them  at  a  high  rate ;  if  thy  faith  be  so,  it 
hath  cost  thee  many  a  prayer,  many  a  sob,  many  a  salt  tear.  But 
ask  most  men  how  they  come  by  their  faith  in  Christ,  they  say  very 
easily;  when  the  lion  sleeps, a  man  may  lie  and  sleep  by  it;  but 
when  it  awakens,  woe  to  that  nan  that  doth  so :  so  while  God  is  si- 
lent and  patient,  ihou  mayest  befool  thyself  with  thinking  thou  dost 
trust  unto  God  ;  but  woe  to  thee  when  the  Lord  appears  in  hi!i 
wrath,  as  one  day  he  will ;  for  by  virtue  of  this  false  faith,  men 
.rinning  take  Christ  for  a  dishclout  to  wipe  them  clean  again, 
iand  that  is  all  the  use  they  have  of  this  faith.  They  sin  indeed, 
J  'but  they  trust  unto  Christ  for  his  mercy,  and  so  lie  aliU  in  their 
■^  'ains :  God  wiQ  revenge  with  blood,  and  fire,  and  plagues,  this 
horrible  contempt  from  heaven. 

Hence  many  of  you  trust  lo  Chriat,  as  the  apricot  tree,  that 
leans  against  the  wall,  but  it  is  fast  rooted  in  the  earth :  so  you 
lean  upon  Christ  for  salvation,  but  you  are  rooted  in  the  world, 
rooted  in  your  pride,  rooted  in  your  fllthinesa  still.  Woe  to  you 
if  you  perish  in  this  estate  ;  God  will  hew  you  down  as  fuel  for 
his  wrath,  whatever  mad  hope  you  have  to  be  saved  by  Christ. 
This,  therefore,  I  proclaim  from  the  God  of  heaven  :  — 

1.  Ton  that  never  felt  yourselves  as  unable  to  believe  as  a 
dead  man  to  raise  himself,  you  have  as  yet  no  faith  at  all. 

(2.  Tou  thai  would  get  faith,  first  must  feel  your  inability  to 
believe :  and  fetch  not  this  slip  out  of  thine  own  garden  ;  it  maM  m 


TIUB  SnfCKBB  CONTEBT. 


109 


oome  down  from  HeaTen  to  thj  soul,  if  ever  thou  partakest 
thereof. 

Other  thuigs  I  should  have  spoken  of  this  large  subject,  but  I 
am  forced  here  to  end  abruptly ;  the  Lord  lay  not  this  sin  to 
their  charge  who  have  ^  stopped  my  mouth,  laboring  to  withhold 
the  truth  in  unrighteousness.'*  And  blessed  be  the  good  God, 
who  hath  stood  bj  his  unworthy  servant  thus  long,  enabling  him 
to  lead  you  so  far  as  to  show  you  the  rocks  and  dangers  of  your 
passage  to  another  world. 
VOL.  I.  10 


THE 


SOUND    BELIEVER. 


TREATISE  OF  EVANGELICAL   CONVERSION, 


DISCOVERING  THE  WORK  OF  CHRIST'S  SPIRIT  IN 
RECONCILING  OF.  A  SINNER  TO  GOD. 


Matt,  xriii.  11.^**1  came  to  MTe  that  which  was  loat. 


tt 


[  tiave  had  about  publishing  these 
a  God,  and  at  last  been  persaaded 


Sir  :  Maoy  atruggliDga 
notes.  I  have  looked  up 
upoD  these  grounds :  — 

1.  The  mon^  desires  bolh  of  frienda  and  strangers,  tmth  by 
private  speeches  and  lelters,  which  I  thought  might  be  the  voice 
of  Christ 

2.  Some  good  (as  I  hear)  those  which  are  already  out  have 
done,  and  which  the  rest  might  do,  which  I  have  looked  on  as  a 
testimony  of  the  Lord's  acceptance  of  them. 

3.  I  know  not  what  the  Lord's  meaning  should  be  to  bring  to 
light  by  his  providence,  wiihoot  my  privily,  knowledge,  or  will, 
the  former  part,  unless  it  was  lo  awaken  and  enforce  me  (buing 
deaired)  to  publish  the  rest ;  our  works,  I  thought,  should  re- 
semble God's  works,  not  lo  be  left  imperfect. 

4.  I  considered  my  weak  body,  and  my  short  time  of  sojourn- 
ing here,  and  thai  J  shall  not  speak  long  to  children,  friends,  or 
God's  precious  people,  —  lam  sure  not  to  many  in  England, — to 
whom  I  owe  almost  my  whole  selfLwhom  I  shall  see  in  this  world 
no  more  ;  I  have  been  therefore  willing  to  got  the  wind,  and  take 

■  the  season,  that  I  might  leave  some  part  of  God's  precious  truth 
on  record,  that  it  might  speak  (O  that  it  might  be  to  the  heart  1) 
kmong  whom  I  can  not  (and  when  I  shall  not)  be.  I  account  it 
a  part  of  God's  infinite  grace  lo  make  me  an  instrument  of  the 
least  good.  If  the  Lord  shall  so  far  accept  of  me  in  publishiogj 
I  I  hava  [ 


i  things,  i 


>  alt  that  I  would  desire; 


10" 


t,yet  I 


114 


TO 


mired  forgivenefls  in  the  blood  of  his  Son,  for  whatever  erroni 
or  weaknesaes  maj  be  in  it,  or  are  in  myself,  which  maj  hin- 
der aucoesSy  and  frustrate  it^,  end ;  only  what  I  havB  in  much 
weakness  belieyedi  I  hAve  written,  and  sent  it  onto  jon,  leav- 
ing it  1H10II7  with  jooTMlfy  whom  I  moch  love  and  honor, 

,  that  yon  wonld-add  or  detract  any  thing  yon  see  meet,  (so  as  it 
be  not  cross  to  what  I  have  writ;)  and  if  you  then  think  it  meet 
fbr  public  view,  yon  see  upon  what  grounds  I  am  content  with 
it;  but  if  you  shall  bury  it,  and  put  it  to  perpetual  silence,  it 
diaU  be  most  pleasing  to  him  who  thinks  more  meanly  of  it  than 

I  others  can* 

^^  Tho.  Skbpaxd. 


THE    SOUND   BELIEVER. 


CUAPTER    I. 

AS  TUB  GREAT  CACSK  OF  THE  ETERNAL  rERDITlUN'  OF  MEN  IS  OF  > 
TBEXSELVeS,  SO  THE  OKLV  CAUSE  OF  THE  ACTirAL  DEUVKR- 
ANCE  AND  SALVATION  OF  MAN  IS  JE8C8  CUKIHT:"" 

HcMM  *1IL  9,  "  0  Iu*e],  ihon  hasl  dcstroyeJ  ihjtelt,  but  in  mo  [9  ihj  help." 

Section  I. 

These  wordd,  na  they  are  set  down  in  the  Ilelirew,  are  (accord-, 
ing  to  the  style  of  lliU  prupbel]  very  short  and  Beiiteutiaus.  aiid 
Iherclbre  ditTiciilt  lo  translate  into  English  without  some  po* 
riphradU  ;  but  the  sense  is  here  truly  expressed,  "  Id  me  is  ihy 
help ; "  which  you  may  sec  confirmed  from  verae  4 :  "  There  is 
no  Sarioar  beside  me ; "  and  rerae  1 4 :  "  I  will  ransom  them  from 
the  power  of  the  grave ;  O  death,  I  will  be  lliy  plague ;  O  grave,  I 
will  be  thy  destruction."  Suppose  the  prophet  should  speak  here 
of  temporal  aajvation,  help  and  ransom,  (which  he  doth  not  i)  yet 
the  arguiSSnrlB^Gmin^;  ff  there  be'  no  Saviour  from  temporal  woe 
and  misery  but  only  the  Lord  Jesus,  how  much  more  is  there 
from  woes  eternal  f  Only  understand  me  here  aright;  I  am  not 
DOW  speuking  of  man's  deliverance  and  salvation  by  price  in  way  * 
of  satisfaclioo  lo  justice,  (for  that  I  have  already  handled,)  but  of 
his  duliverauce  and  salvation  by  power;  not  of  man's  purchased 
dtflii'crance,  which  is  by  the  blood  of  "Christ,  but  of  man's  actual  ]i 
dclivci^nfc,  which  is  by  the  etBcacy  and  power  of  the  Sp^'of  ^ 
Chriat.     Some  captives  among  men  are  redeemed  by  price  otilf^  ' 

e~^  power  without  price ;  but  sueh  is  the  lamentable  captivity 
of  all  men,  under  the  severity  of  justice  and  power  of  sin,  tliat  \   '. 
without  the  price  of  Christ's  blood,  (Eph.  i.7,)  and  the  power  of  \ 
Christ's  Spirit,  (John  viii.  3C,)  there  is  no  deliverance  ;  the  Lord  \ 
*     js  having  paid  the  price  for  our  deliverance.     Yet  it  is  with 
Ls  with  a  company  of  captives  in  priaoo :  our  sins  like  Krons 
115 


116  THE   eOVSl*   BELIEVEB. 

chains  bold  us  ;  Sfttan.  our  keeper,  will  nut  let  us  go ;  ihe  prisonil 
doora,  throng  li  iinbi-lij.-f,  are  shut  upon  us.  (Horn.  xi.  32;)  and  J 
thereby  God  and  Ubnst  arc  ke|)t  oul  from  us.  What  power  now  1 
can  rescue  ua,  chat  are  held  fast  under  such  a  power,  even  aiWT  I 
the  price  is  paid  ?  Trulj'  it  can  be  no  other  but  that  in  my  tex^  M 
"  In  me  is  thy  help."  Wli^n  our  ransom  ia  paid,  iho  Lord  n 
come  himself  and  fetch  us  out  by  strong  hand.  (Is.  liii.  1.)  " 
wtiom  ia  the  arm  of  the  Lord  revealed  ?  Truly  to  very  few,  yel 
to  some  it  is  ;  and  certainly  look  as  they  make  Chrii  "  ' 
iDiieed,  who  dony  bis  salvation  by  price  and  satisfaction,  so  those 
also  make  him  aa  imperfect  Sikviour  who  deny  solvati 
actual  deliverance  of  man  to  be  only  the  almighty  arm  and  efficacy 
of  his  Spirit  and  power :  excellent  therefore  is  the  speech  of  the 
apostle,  (Acts-v.  30,  31,)  "God  bath  exalted  Jesus  to  give  rt-j 
pentance  and  remission  of  sins  to  IsraeL"  Look  as  Je^us  i 
abased  to  purchase  repentance  and  remission,  so  be  is  now  i 

.   alted  actu^ly  to  give  and  apply  repentance  and  remission  of  si 
Whose  glory  is  it  to  remit  gins,  but  God's  in  Christ,  and  by  Christ 
only  ?    Whose  glory  is  it  to  give  repentance,  (which  in  this  place 
comprehends  the  work  of  conversion  and  faith,  as  Bezs  observes,} 
whereby  we  apply  remission,  but  the  same  God  only  ?    The  o 
is  as  difficult  to  be  conveyed  as  the  other,  and  we  stand  in  as  mudiv 
need  of  Christ  lo  do  the  one  as  the  other;  all  the  power  of  ChrirtJ 
exalted  is  little  enough  to  give  us  repentance  and  r      '    ~ 
condition  of  the  covenant  expressed  in  repentance,  and  the  bless- 
ings in  the  covenant,  summed  up  in  the  forgiveness  of  sins  ;  the 

tSocinians  deny  redemption  and  salvation  by  prize  ;  the  Armin- 
■  ians  by  Christ's  power,  leaving  suasion  only  to  bim,  but  power 
of  conversion  lo  the  power  and  liberty  of  the  will  of  man.  O 
adulterous  generation,  that  are  thus  hacking  at  and  cutting  the 
Icunls  of  their  own  salvation !  I  shall  here  speak  only  lo  one 
question,  which  ia  the  princi{ml,  and  most  profitable,  and  that  is 
this  :  IIdw  doih  Christ  redeem  and  save  ua  by  his  ]>ower,  oul  of '^ 
that  miserable  estate  ?  and  consequently  what  i 
lo  seek,  and  so  to  find  and  feel  deliverance  1 
Christ's  power? 

As  there  are  four  principal  means  and  causes,  or  ways,  where 
by  man  ruins  himself.  —  1.    Ignorance  of  their  own  miseryjfl 
2.  Security  and  unsensibleness  of  it ;  3.  Caraal  confidence  in  the&~ 
own  duties ;    4.   Presumption  or  resting  upon  the  mercy  of  f 
;'     by  ft  taith  of  their  own  forging,  —  so,  on  Ihe  contrary,  there  is  $ 

I  loOrfold  actof  Clirisl's  power,  whereby  he  rescues  and  delivel'' 

I  all  his  out  of  their  miserable  estate. 

J  The  tirst  act  or  stroke  is  conviction  of  sin 


B 
It 

e 
) 

'^   ■ 

'i 


is  the  way  ft 
!  by  the  uun 


J^ 


The  second  is  cbmpunclion  for  sin.  ^        ^.      y, 

Tlje  tbird  is  humitiulion  or  self-iibiisemenl.     -^  I        - 

The  fourth  is  fnitL ;  all  which  are  disIincU}'  put  fortb  (whenj^ 
he  ceaseth  extraordinarily  to  work)  in  the  day  of  Chrisl'a  pow- 
er  t  and  bo  ever  look  for  actual  salvation  and  redemplion  from 
Chriat,  let  them  seek  fur  mercy  and  deliverance  in  lliU  way,  out 
of  which  they  shall  never  find  it ;  let  them  begin  at  conviction, 
and  desire  the  Lord  to  let  them  see  their  sins,  that  so  being  af- 
fected with  them,  and  humbled  under  them,  they  may  by  faith 
he  enable  to  receive  Jesus  Christ,  and  so  be  blessed  in  hiin.  It 
is  true,  Christ  is  applied  to  us  next  hy  faith,  but  faith  is  wrought 
in  us  in  thatjfgy^of  conviction  and  sorrow  for  sin  ;  no  man  eon 
or  will  come  by  faith  to~  Ubnst  to  Take  away  his  sins,  unless  he  j. 
first  see,  bo  ponvJcted  of,  and  loaded  with  them.  I  confess  the^^  ■ 
manner  of  the  Spirit's  work,  in  iTie  conversion  of  a  sinner  unto 
God,  is  exceeding  secret,  and  in  roany  things  very  various ;  and 
therefore  it  is  too  great  boldness  to  mark  out  all  God's  footsteps 
herein ;  yet  so  far  forth  ns  the  Lord  himself  tells  us  his  worii, 
and  the  manner  of  it  in  all  his,  we  may  safely  resolve  oureelrea, 
and  so  far,  and  no  farther,  shuU  we  proceed  in  the  explication  g^ 
these  things.  It  is  great  profaneness  not  to  search  into  the  works 
of  common  providence,  though  secret  and  hidden.  (Ps.  xxviii. , 
5,  and  xcii.  fi.)  Much  greater  is  it  not  to  do  this  unto  God's  1 
work  of  special  favor  and  grace  upon  his  chosen.  "^ 

I  shall  therefore  b^io  with  the  first  stroke  —  Christj  power,  (?<■ 
which  ii  cooTJclion  of  sio.  — 


7%ejSn(  AtA  of  (Aritfi  Pineer,  which  it  €bimeli<m  of  Sin. 

Now,  for  the  more  distinct  explication  of  this,  J  shall  open  to 
jou  these  fonr  things  :  — 

1.  I  shall  prove  that  the  Lord  Christ  by  his  Spirit  bepns.the 
•ctaal  deUverance  of  his  elect  here. 

3.  Wtu(  i«  thiit  aip  the  Lord  convinceth  the  »oq1  thus  flrM  of. 

8.  How  the  Lord  doth  iL 
b        4.  'WSu  measure  and  degree  of  conviction  be  works  thus  in 
•libit. 

1.  For  the  6n>t,  it  is  said,  (John  xvi.  »,  9.)  that  the  first 
thing  that  the  Spirit  doth  when  he  comes  to  make  the  npostles* 
Biinistry  effectuai,  is  this  :  it  shall  "  reprove  or  convince  the  worid 
of  sin;"  it  doth  nQtfirst  work  faith,  but  convinceth  them^tlutt 
tlujf  bftva  no  billi,  (m  m  nrM  t*,)  and  cqaieqoeBt^  nndsr  tbo' 


1 
1 
I 

1 


118  TUB  sorND 


^ 


lilt  and  dominion  of  their  sin;  nnil  after  

flileousnesa."  wBlch  lanhannrehends.  (Vcr.  10.)     Itialrue,'  I 


lliftl  tlie  word  conviction,  here,  is  ol  a  large  extent,  and  includes 
eompunctioii  and  humilifllion  fur  sin ;  yel  our  Saviour  wraps 
Htcm  up  ID  tbis  *Ord ;  because  conviction  is  the  first,  and  there* 
fore  the  chief  in  order ;  here  the  Lord,  not  s|)eaking  now  of 
I  inelfeutual,  but  pftVir-iiml,  utid  thorough  conviction  expressed- 
'J  in  deep  smros^and  bumiliiition.  Now,  (he  text  sailh,  tLe  Lord 
begins  thus  not  wTtli  some  one  or  two,  but  with  the  world  rf- 
God's  elect,  who  arc  to  be  culled  home  by  the  ministry  of  tbftt 
word,  which  our  Saviour  speaks  (aa  any  may  see  who  considert 
the  scope)  purposely  to  comfort  the  hearta  of  hia  disciples,  tliak 
their  ministry  shall  be  thus  effectual  to  the  world  of  Jews  aad> 
Gentiles ;  and  therefore  can  not  speak  of  such  conviction  xt' 
serves  only  for  to  leave  men  without  excuse  for  greater  condem- 
nation, (as  some  understand  the  place  ; )  for  that  is  a  poor  ground' 
7 of  consolation  to  their  sad  hcnils.  Secondly.  I  shall  hereafW' 
prove  that  there  can  be  no  faith  without  sense  of  sin  an^ 
Jmisery  ;  and  now  tliere  can  he  no  sense  ofsin  without  a  prec»-'i 
•/dfllt'jig{it  or  cnnvipiii^n  of  sin  ;  no  man  can  feel  sin,  unless  hth, 
doth  first  see  it;  what  the  eye  sees  not.  the  heart  rues  noU-  Let 
the  greatest  evil  befall  a  man  —  suppose  the  burning  of  his  house, 
the  death  of  his  children ;  if  he  doth  not  first  know,  see,  and  hear 
of  it,  lie  will  never  take  it  to  heart,  it  will  never  trouble  bim : 

ISO  lei  a  poor  sinner  lie  under  the  greatest  guilt,  the  sorest  wrath 
of  God.  it  will  never  trouble  him  until  he  seesjt  and  be  coo'^ 
,  TJnced  of  it.  (Acts  ii.  37.)  ""When  they  beard  this,  they  were 
i  pncked  i "  but  first  they  heard  it,  and  saw  their  sin  before  their 
hearts  were  wounded  for  it.  (Gen.  iii.  7.)  They  first  saw  their 
nakedness  before  they  were  ashamed  of  it.  Thirdly.  The 
main  end  of  the  law  is  to  drive  us  to  Christ.  (Rom.  x.  4.)  If 
Christ  be  the  "^nd  of  jlieJaw,"  then  the  law  is  the  means  sub- 
servient to  that  eoT,  and  that  not  to  some,  but  to  all  that  helTert; : 
now,  th^c  law,  though  it  drives  us  to  Christ  by  condemnation,  yet 
•I  in  order  it  begins  with  pij'j'liiH''""  It  firat  nwu-itjth.  and  so  con- 
vinceth  of  sin^  (Rom,  iii.  20,)  and  then  eondemneth.  It  is  tbily 
~antllDJ1i3[Tce  lor  a  juifgS  tD'COnSeMU  und 'MH^  U  bmner  out  to 
his  execution  before  accusation  and  conviction  ;  and  is  it  wisdom 
or  justice  in  the  Lord  or  his  law  to  do  otherwise  ?  and  therefore 
the  Spirit,  in  making  use  of  the  law  for  this  end,  first  convinceth 
as  it  first  accuseih,  and  lays  our  sins  to  our  charge.  Lastly. 
Look,  as  Satan,  when  he  binds  up  a  sinner  in  his  sin,  he  first 
J  keeps  him  (if  possible)  from  the  very  sight  and  knowledge  of  itj 
because,  so  long  as  they  see  it  not,  this  ignorance  is  the  cause  of 
all  their  woe,  why  they  feel  it  ool,  ivhy  iE^deiSre  not  U>  OOffiS: 


!  the  knoU  of  Sk- 
Klh  his,  Bod 


TUE  SOUKD    BEL1EVBX. 

oat  of  it  i  the  Lord  Je^us,  who  came  to  unlit 
tail,  (1  John  iij.  8.)  begins  bcre,  aad  first  ci 
Toakes  them  see  ibeir  sin,  that  »o  ihej  may  feel  il,  and  come  to 
him  for  deliverance  out  of  it.  O,  consider  thi»,  nil  jon  that 
dream  out  j'our  lime  in  minding  onlj  things  before  your  feet, 
never  thinking  on  the  evila  of  your  own  hearts ;  you  that  heed 
not,  you  that  will  not  see  your  jins,  nor  bo  much  aa  ask  this 
question.  What  have  I  done ?  what  do  I  do?  bow  do  I  live? 
what  will  become  of  me?  what  will  be  the  end  of  my  foolish 
counea?  I  tell  you,  if  ever  the  Lord  save  you,  he  will  make 
you  see  what  now  you  can  not,  what  now  you  will  not ;  he 
will  not  only  moke  you  to  confca^  you  arc  sinners,  but  be  n '" 
convince  voif  yf  sin :  this  shall  be  the  first  thing  the  Lord  will 
do  with  I  bee. 

But  you  will  say.  What  is  that  sin  which  the  Lord  first  con- 
TiRceth  of?  which  is  the  second  thing  to  be  opened.  I  answer 
in  these  three  conclusions :  — 

The  Lord  Jea^sW  his  Spirit  doth  not  only  convince  the  soul 
in  [Tpnofjl  thai  it  IS  a  slnHcr  And  sinful,  but  the  LonI  brings  in 
n  convicting  evidence  of  the  parliculare;  llio  first  is  learnt 
more  by  tradition,  (in  these  days,)  by  llie  report  and  acknowledg- 
ment of  every  man,  rather  ilian  by  any  special  act  of  convicUon 
of  the  Spirit  of  Christ ;  for  what  man  is  there  almost  but  lies 
under  this  confession  that  he  is  a  sinner  ?  The  best  say  they 
are  sinners,  "and  if  we  say  we  have  no  sin,  we  deceive  our- 
selves," and  "  I  know  I  am  a  sinner ;  "  but  that  which  the  Spirit 
principally  convinceth  of  is  some  ein  or  sins  in  particular ;  the  i 
Spirit  doth  not  arrest  men  for  oSonces  in  general,  but  opens  the  , 
writ  and  sbows  the  particular  cause — the  particular  sins.  (Rom.  ^ 
iii.  9.)  We  have  proved,  sailh  the  apostle,  that  Jews  and  Gen- 
tiles are  under  sin ;  but  how  doth  the  apoetle,  (being  now  th<i 
instrument  of  the  Spirit,)  in  tliis  work  of  conviction,  convince 
them  of  this?  Mark  his  method,  verses  10-18,  wherein  you 
shall  see  it  is  done  by  enumeration  of  particulars ;  sins  of  their 
natursB,  there  is  none  flulueuiia  ;  aiiwof' thph-mind^  none  un-  ' 
dci^tandcih ;  sins  in  their  wills  and  affectionii.  none  seek  aJ^er 
God;  sins  in  their  lives,  all  gone  oiit  "of  the  way;  sins  of 
omissign.Df  good  duties,,  there  is  none  that  doth  good;  ibeir 
lliroais,  tongues.  lip»,  are  sepulchcrs,  deceitful,  [)oisonful ;  tbeir 
mouths  full  of  cursing,  their  feet  swift  lo  shed  blood,  etc 
And  ibis  is  tlie  slate  of  you  -Tews,  (ver.  19.)  as  well  as  of 
the  t^niilcs ;  that  all  flesh  may  stand  convinced  as  guilty  bjB- T* 
fore  God.  If  it  he  here  demanded.  What  arelBose  bul  par- 
ii<:uTar~Btns  which  the  Lord  convinceth  men  of?  I  answer.  In 
variety  uf  men  there  is  much  variety  of  special  ^ins,  as  there 


THE   eOtniD    BELIEVER. 

is  of  disposilioDs,  tempere,  and  lemptalioDs ;  ami  llicrefore  tbft^ 
Lord  doth  not  convince  one  mnn  at  first  of  tlie  same  sing  i^ 
which  he  doth  another  man  ;  yet  this  we  may  safely  sHy:.  usu- 
ally (ihojgh  not  always)  the  Lord  begins  with  Ihe  remem- 
1  brance  and  consideration  of  ^ome_flii&_great,  if  not  a  man's 
■^  s]>ecial  andmoBt  belovedsinj,  a53thereby  the  Spirit  discovery  ■ 
gradually,  all  ihe  rest :  thaTairow  which  woundeth  the  heart  oC 
C'lirist  most,  tlie  Lord  mnkes  it  fall  first  upon  the  head  of  tin 
einncV  Ihnt  did  Ehoot  it  against  Heaven,  and  convincelh,  and  a 
it  were  liila  him  fir^t  wilh  that.     How  did   the  Spirit  convine 

Jlliose  three  thonsand,  those  jiatierns  of  God's  converting  grace  7 
(Acts  ii.  37.)  Did  not  the  Lord  begin  wilh  them  for  one  pria* 
cipol  Bin,  viz.,  their  murder  and  contempt  of  Christ  by  imbruing, 
their  hands  iu  his  blood  ^  There  is  no  quesiioii  but  now  they  itn 
roembered  other  sinful  practices;  but  this  was  the  imprirm* 
which  is  ever  accompanied  with  many  other  ilcms  which  ■ 
then  read  in  God's  bill  of  reckonings  where  the  first  is  i 
down.  Israel  would  have  a  king.  (1  Sam.  viii.  19.)  Sai 
nel,  for  a  time,  could  not  convince  them  of  their  sin:  heroiii 
what  doth  the  Lord  do  ?  Surely  he  wilt  convince  ihera  of  si 
fore  he  leaves  them:  and  ihis  he  doth  by  such  a  terrible ihundet 
Bs  made  all  their  hearts  uche.  And  how  ia  it  now  ?  What  sin  do 
they  now  see  ?  They  first  sec  the  grcAtness  of  that  particular  eini 
but  this  come  not  to  mind  alone,  but  they  cried  oui,  (1  Sam.  xii. 
19,)  "  We  have  added  unto  all  our  evils  this,  in  asking  to  onr- 
selves  a  king."  Look  upon  tlie  woman  of  Samaria.  (John  iT.]f| 
The  Lord  Christ  indeed  spake  first  anto  her  about  himself,  thi) 
euhslunce  of  the  gospel,  about  the  worth  of  this  water  of  lifei 
but  what  good  did  she  get  until  the  Lord  began  to  convince  her 
of  sin?  And  how  doth  he  that?  He  tells  her  of  her  secret  whore- 
dom she  lived  in,  the  man  that  she  now  had  was  not  her  huB* 
band;  and  upon  the  discovery  of  this,  she  saw  many  more  sins; 
and  hence  (ver.  29)  she  cries  out,  "  Come  see  the  man  that  hath 
told  me  all  that  ever  I  did  in  my  life."  And  thus  the  Lord 
deals  at  this  day :  the  minister  preachelh  against  one  sin,  it  may 
be  "fvhoredom,  ignorance,  contempt  of  the  gospel,  neglect  of  s^  . 
cret  duties,  lying.  Sabbath-breaking,  &c.  This  is  thy  case,  saidi 
the  Spirit  unto  the  soul ;  remember  the  time,  the  place,  the  p~~ 
eons  with  whom  thou  livedst  in  this  sinful  condition:  and  noi 
man  begins  to  go  alone,  and  to  think  of  all  his  former  courses,  * 
how  exceeding  evil  they  have  been ;  it  may  be  the  Lord  brings 
upon  a  man  a  sore  alBiction,  and  when  he  is  in  chains,  crying  out 
of  that,  the  Lord  saith  to  him  as  to  those,  (Jer.  xjtx.  15,)  "Why 
criest  tiiou  for  thy  affliction  ?  for  the  multitude  of  thine  iniquities 
I  bBTO  done  lliis : "  it  may  be,  the  Lord  sometimes  strikes  a  man's 


ofse. 
,  saidij 


TDE   aorSD    BELrETER. 

Tiffmr*"'""  '''  tiirr  dead,  by  B 
that  particular  sin  comes  to  m 
wilh  multitude  of  many  other  sins,  the  causes  of  il,  the  fruita 
vid  offects  of  it;  aa  the  father  whips  a  child  upon  occasion  of 
one  Epeciol  fault,  but  then  teUs  him  of  many  more  which  be 
winked  at  before  (his,  and  guiih.  Now,  sirrah,  remember  such  a 
time,  such  a  froward  fit,  such  undutitbl  behavior,  such  a  reviling 
won)  you  spake,  such  a  time  I  civlleil,  and  you  ran  away  and  would 
not  hear  me ;  and  you  thought  I  liked  well  enough  of  the  seways ; 
but  now  know  tliat  I  will  not  pass  them  by,  etc.  Thus  the  Lord 
deals  with  his ;  and  hence  it  is,  mnny  timed,  that  the  elect  of  Gud, 
civilly  brought  up,  do  hcreupoo  tliiak  well  of  themselves,  and  so  ' 
remain  long  unconvinced  of  their  woful  estates;  the  Lord  suffers 
them  to  full  into  some  foul,  secret,  or  open  sin,  and  by  tliis  the 
Lord  takes  special  occasion  of  working  couvictioo  and  8om>w 
for  £in  ;  the  Lord  hereby  makes  tliem  hang  down  the  bead,  and 
cry,  "  Unelean,  unclean."  Paul  was  civilly  educated ;  he  turned 
lit  la£l  a  hot  persecutor,  oppressor,  blasphemer :  the  Lord  lir^t 
conviuced  him  of  his  persecution,  and  cried  out  from  lieuven  to 
him,  '■  Paul,  Paul,  why  persecutest  thou  me  ?  "  This  struck  him 
to  the  heart,  and  then  sin  revived.  (Kom.  vii.  9.)  Many  secret 
nns  of  his  heart  were  discovered,  which  I  take  to  begin  and  con- 
tinue ill  special  in  those  three  days.  (Acts  iii.  9,)  wherein  be 
was  blind,  and  did  (through  sight  of  sin  and  sorrow  of  heart) 
ncillier  cat  nor  driuk.  As  a  man  that  hath  the  plague,  not  know- 
ing the  disease,  he  hopes  to  live ;  but  when  he  sees  the  apoU 
and  tokens  of  death  upon  his  wrist,  now  he  criea  out,  because  ron- 
vinccd  that  the  plagiic  of  liie   Lord  is  upon  him ;  fD  when  men 


usually  thus:)  fur  -inm  m'  n  il,.'  I„.mI  n^i^  ii]--(  .■mn  m.^-  ,.|"  .in 
by  showiug  them  iho  .-ihtulii.--  nt  [luir  uvvii  lii'iin.  ;i[iii  "iu-; 
the  Ijord  may  let  a  muu  pi^e  liis  blindness,  his  extreme  hardness 
of  heart,  his  weakness,  bis  wilfulness,  his  heartlcssness ;  he  can 
sol  pray,  or  bok  up  to  God,  and  this  may  first  convince  him  i  or 
that  all  that  he  dotli  is  sinful,  being  out  of  Christ ;  the  Lord  may 
suddenly  let  him  see  the  deceits  of  his  own  heart,  and  the  secret 
sinful  practices  of  his  life;  as  if  some  had  told  the  minister,  or 
as  if  he  spake  to  none  but  him ;  that  he  is  forced  to  fall  down 
being  thus  convinced,  and  to  confess,  God  is  in  this  man.  (1  Cor. 
Xiv.  2i.)  Nicodcnius  may  first  see  and  be  convinced  of  the  want 
of  regeneration,  and  thereby  feel  his  need  of  Christ ;  the  Lord 
may  set  a  man  upon  the  consideration  of  all  his  life  past,  how 
wickedly  it  bath  been  spent ;  and  so  not  one,  but  a  niullilade  of 
vot.  1.  11 


I 


182 


I   BELIEVER. 


4 

:own  ■ 


iniquidescompBEaliini  about;  a  man  may  see  ihe  godly  exanij 
of  Lis  parentB  or  other  godly  Christitins,  in  the  family  or  town 
where  be  dwells,  and  by  this  be  convinced,  that  if  iheir  Btate  and 
way  be  good,  hiB  own  {eo  far  unlike  it)  must  needs  be  slark 
naught :  the  Lord  ever  convincetb  the  soul  of  sins  in  particular, 
but  he  doth  not  always  convince  one  man  of  the  same  particular 
sins  at  first  as  he  dolli  another;  whether  ihe  I<ord  convincelh  all 
^^  the   elect  at  first  of  the  aja.  of  ^h^'f  nature,  and  show'  them 
■^'tl^gi^  "T-ipjinnl  <i\a  in  andftbout  this  first  stroke  of  conviction,  I 
doubt  not  of  it.  Paul  would  have  been  alive,  and  a  proud  Pharisee 
atiU,  if  the  Lord  had  not  let  him  by  the  law  sec  iLis  sin,  (Rom. 
vii.  9 ;)  and  so  would  all  men  in  the  world,  if  this  should  not  be 
revealed  first  or  last,  in  a  lesser  or  greater  measure,  under  a  dis- 
tinct or  more  indistinct  notion ;  and  hence  arise  those  confessions 
/  of  the  saints  —  I  never  thought  I  bad  such  a  vile  heart ;  if  all  the 
.'  world  bad  told  me,  I  could  not  have  believed  them,  but  that  the 
~  Lord  hath  made  me  feel  it  and  see  it  at  lost ;  was  there  ever  such 
a  sinner,  (at  least  in  heart,  which  is  continually  opposing  of  him,] 
whom  the  Lor(J,«(  any  time  received  to  mercy,  as  I  am  ? 

2,  The  L^d  Jesus  by  his  Spirit  doth  not  only  convince  Ihe 
. ,  Boul  of  its  sin  in  particular,  but  also  of  the  eyjl,  even  Ihe  exceed- 
ing great  evil,  of  those  porticuJar  sina.  The  Lord  Jeaua  doth  not 
only  convince  of  the  evil  of  sin,  but  of  Ihe  ^eat  evil  of  sin.  0 
ihou  wretch,  saith  the  Spirit,  {as  the  Lord  lo  Cain,  Gen.  iv,  10,) 
what  bast  thou  done,  whose  ains  cry  lo  heaven,  who  hasl  thus 
long  lived  with  God,  and  done  this  infinite  wrongs  lo  an  infinite 
God,  for  which  Ihou  canst  never  malcCliiin  amends!  That  God 
who  could  have  long  since  cut  thee  off  in  the  midst  of  thy  sins 
and  wickedness,  and  crushed  thee  like  a  moth,  and  sent  thee 
down  to  those  oternal  flames  where  Ihou  now  seesl  some  better 
than  thyself  mourning  day  and  night,  hut  yet  hath  spared  thee 
nninfj^ja  tn^w  piijf  ti)  t}|f-i-,  ijiat  God  host  Ihou  resisted  and 
forsaken  all  thy  lifetime  (  and,  therefore,  now  see  and  consider 
what  an  evil  and  bitter  thing  it  is  thus  lo  live  as  thou  hast  done. 
(Jer.  ii.  Id.y  Look,  as  it  ia  in  the  ways  of  holiness,  many  a  man 
void  of  the  Spirit  may  see  and  know  them  in  tbo  literal  ex- 
pressions of  Ihem,  but  can  not  see  Ihe  glory  of  them  but  by  Ihe 
Spirit ;  and  hence  it  is  he  doth  not  esteem  and  prize  them  and  the 
knowledge  of  them  above  gold.  So  in  the  ways  of  unholiness; 
many  a  man  void  of  the  spirit  of  conviction  of  sin  may  and  doth 
^see  many  particular  sins,  and  confess  ihera  :  but  he  doth  not,  con 
not  see  the  exceeding  evil  of  them  ;  and  Ihence  it  is,  though  he 
doth  Bee_them,_ycL  he  doth  j3uL.jiujdL.diiliLu.lheni(  because  he 
gceat  hurt  or  evil  in  Ihem,  but  makes  alight  matter  «£,_ 


>    BELIE  TEII. 


tfi^m :  and  tberefore,  nhen  tli';  Spirit  ramea,  it  lets  liim  see  and 
Bland  coovioced  of  the  exceeding  greatness  of  the  evil  that  is  in 
tliera.  (Job  xTxvi.  8,  9.)  In  the  lime  of  affliction,  (which  is 
nsiially  the  time  of  conviction  of  a  wild,  unruly  sinner,)  he  ebows 
them  their  transgressions ;  but  how?  that  they  have  exceeded, 
that  they  have  been  exceeding  many  and  exceeding  vile.  0 
beloved,  before  the  Lord  Jesug  comes  to  convince,  we  have  cause 
U>  pray  for  and  pily  every  poor  sinner,  as  the  Lord  Jesus, did, 
saying,  '■  Lord,  forgive  them  ;  they  know  not  what  they  do/'/You 
godly  parents,  masters,  how  od  do  you  instrnct  yonr  children, 
Bervanis,  and  convince  them  of  their  sinfulness,  until  tbej  eon- 
tess  their  faults  ?  yet  you  see  no  amendment,  but  they  go  on  still ; 
what  should  you  now  do?  O,  cry  out  for  them,  and  say.  Lord, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do.  Thpjf  siiw  ihpy 
know,  bat  what  the  evil  of  tliem  is,  alas !  thev  .know  not ;  mt 
when  the  spirit  comes  to  convince,  he  makes  them  see  what  they 
V  do,  and  what  is  the  exceeding  evil  of  those  sins  they  made  light 
^1^  before  j  like  madmen  that  have  sworn,  and  cursed,  and  struck 
neir  friends,  and  when  they  come  to  be  sober  again,  and  remem- 

r  their  miEchievous  ways  and  words,  now  they  see  what  they 
liave  done,  and  how  abominable  their  courses  then  were.  O 
jou  that  walk  on  in  the  madness  of  your  minds  now,  in  all  man- 
of  sin,  if  ever  (he  Lord  do  good  to  you,  you  shall  account 
'  ways  madness  and  folly,  and  cry  out,  O  Lord,  what  have 
1  done  in  kicking  thus  long  against  the  pricks? 

The  Lord  Jesus  by  his  Spirit  doth  not  only  convince  the  soul 


of  the  evil  of  sin,  but  of  iho  evil  after  sin ;  I  mean,  of  the  just 
punishment  which  doth  foUow  sin^  and  that  is  this,  viz.,  that  it 
*£oat  (lie,ahgTBM  Slcriiall^for  sin,  if  it  remain  in  this  estate  it  » . 
now  iQ.    rttom.  W.  IS.)  "TKe  law  worlelli  wralhi"  i.  e.,  sight 


If- 

.is. 
igbt 


ff  m^fKbm.  W.  IS.) 
nJ  sense  of  wrath.  (Rom.  vii.  D.)  *'  When  the  law  came, 
revived,  and  I  died ; "  i.  e.,  I  saw  myself  a  dead  man  by  it ;  go  tho 
■oul  sees  clearly  God  hath  said,  "  The  soul  that  sinnelh  shall 
die : "  I  have  sinned,  find  therefore,  if  the  Lord  be  true.  I  eltall 
die;  lo  hell_  I  shall,  if  now  the  Lord  slop  my  breath,  and  cut 
off  my  life, "which  he  might  justly  and  may  easily  do.  ''  Deatb'^ 
fa  the  wages  of  sin,"  even  of  any  one  sin,  though  never  so  iiitle ; 
what,  then,  will  become  of  me.  who  stand  guilty  of  so  many,  ex- 
ceeding tlie  number  of  the  hairs  on  my  heod,  or  the  stars  in 
beaven  ?  '■  Wlioremongers  and  adulterers  God  will  judge  ; "  the 
r  hath  said  so,  the  Lord  himself  haih  told  me  so.  (Heb. 
ziit.  4.)  1  am  the  man ;  my  conscience  now  tears  me,  and  tolb 
me  SO;  what  will  become  of  me?  "The  Lord  Jesus  will  come 
Id  flammg  fire  to  render  veugeasce  against  all  that  know  not 


Jg4  THE  SOPSD  believeh, 

God,  and  llinl  obey  not  ihe  gospel."  TliU  I  belitve,  for 
Imlh  etiitl  il.  (2  Tbesa.  ii.  7-9.)  And  now  1  see  I  am  he  I 
lialh  lived  long  in  jgnoranee,  and  know  not  God ;  I  bave  hod 
gospel  of  grace  Uina  Ion;;  wooing  and  persuading  mj  heart,  i 
oftentimes  it  both  affected  me.  bat  yetd  hare  reHisted  God  i 
his  gospel,  and  bave  set  tnj  lilthy  lusts,  inj  vain  Exports,  m^  c< 
pontons'  cups  and  queans  at  a  higher  price  than  Christ,  and  bar* 
loved  them  more  than  himi  and  therefore,  though  I  may  Im 
spared  for  a  while,  yet  there  is  a  time  wherein  Christ  himsel( 
will  eome  out  against  me  in  flaming  fire.  To  this  purpose  doti^ 
the  Spirit  work ;  for,  beloved,  the  great  means  whereby  SaUa 
OTertbrew  man  at  first  in  his  innocency  was  this  principh 
(Although  thou  dost  eat,  and  so  sin  against  God,  yet  thou  si 
not  die.  (Gen.  iii.  4,)  "  Te  shall  not  surely  die."  The  serpent  dotljf 
not  say,  "Ye  shall  not  die,"  for  that  is  loo  gross  an  outfacing  of  th 
word,  (Gen.  ii.  17;)  but  he  soich,  "  Yc  shall  not  surely  die;"  tin 
tst  there  is  not  such  absolute  certainty  of  it ;  it  may  be  yea  sha 
live  J  God  loves  you  better  than  so,  and  ia  a  more  merciful  Fathtt 
than  to  be  at  a  word  and  a  blow.  Now  look,  as  Salan  deceivell 
and  brought  our  first  parents  to  ruin  by  sugge^Ung  this  principl^t 
BO  at  this  day  he  dolb  sow  this  accursed  seed,  and  plant  this  vei^ 
J  principle  in  tlio  soul  of  every  man's  heart  by  nature ;  they  d9 
not  think  they  can  not  believe  they  are  dead  men,  and  condemned 
to  die,  and  that  they  shall  die  eternally  for  the  least  ein  eamn 
mitted  by  them ;  men  nor  angels  can  not  persuade  them  of  itt 
they  can  not  see  the  equity  of  it,  that  (^"^1  °"  "if"*'^"'  ™'"  ^  H 
severe  for  so  small  a  matter ;  nor  yet  the  truth  of  it,  for  thfl^ 
they  think  no  flesh  should  be  saved ;  and  thus,  when  tlie  old  sei^ 
pent  liath  spit  this  poison  before  ibem,  tliey  sup  it  up,  and  drink 
it  in,  luid  so  thou^nds,  nay.  millions  of  men  and  women  are 
utterly  undone.  The  Lord  Christ,  therefore,  when  he  comes  to 
save  a  poor  sinner,  and  raise  him  up  out  of  his  fall,  convincolh 
the  soul  by  his  Spirit,  and  that  with  full  and  mighty  evidence, 
thftt  it  shall  die  for  the  least  sin,  and  tells  him,  as  the  Lord  told 
Aliimelech  in  another  case,  (Gen.  xx.  3,)  "Thou  art  but  a  deail 
man  for  this;"  and  if  the  Spirit  set  on  this,  let  who  ean  claw  it 
off.  I  tell  you,  beloved,  never  did  poor  condemned  malefactor 
more  certainly  know  and  hear  the  sentence  of  condemnation 
passed  upon  lum  by  a  mortal  man.  than  the  guilty  sinner  doth 
his,  by  an  immortal  and  displeased  God ;  and  therefore  those 
three  thousand  cry  out,  (Acid  ii.  37,)  "Men  and  brethren,  what 
shall  we  do  to  be  saved?"  We  ore  condemned  to  die;  what  slmll 
we  do  now  to  be  saved  from  death  ?  Now  the  eoul  is  glad  to 
inquire  of  the  minister,  0,  tell  me,  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  once  thoughlt  _ 


THE   SOUND    BELIEVER. 


myself  in  a  safe  and  good  condition  as  any  in  the  town  or  cotin- 
trj  I  lived  in ;  but  now  the  Lord  hath  let  me  hear  of  other 
naws ;  die  I  mow  in  thui  estate,  and  it  ja  a  wonder  of  merdcs  I 
MM  apiired  alive  to  this  day.    TEerc  is  not  only  some  blind  fears 
ttfl  jh^{ncion8  inai  ii  may  posaibly  be  eo,  but  full  peri^uasions  of 
heart,   die  I  most,  die  I  shall  in  this  estate;  for  if  the  Spirit 
reveal  sin,  and  convince  not  of  death  for  sin,  the  soul  under  this 
work  of  conviction,  being  as  yet  rather  sensual  than  spiritual,  will  . 
make  a  light  matter  of  it  when  it  sees  no  sensible  danger  in  it ;  i 
but  when  it  see«  the  bottomless  pit  before  it,  everlasting  6re  be- 
fore it,  for  tbe  least  sin,  now  it  sees  the  heinous  evil  of  sin  ;  the  I 
way  of  sin,  though  never  so  peaceable  before,  is  full  of  danger  [ 
now,  wherein  it  sees  there  are  endless  woes  and  everlasting 
deaths  that  lie  in  wail  for  it.    (Rom.  vi,  21.)     And  now,  sailh 
the  Spirit,  you  may  go  on  in  these  sinful  courses  as  oiiiers  do,  il' 
you  see   meet;  but  O,  consider  what  will  be  the  end  of  them; 
what  it  is  lo  enjoy  the  i)leasure9  of  sin  for  a  season,  and  lo  be 
tormented  forever  for  them  in  the  conclusion ;  for  be  assured  that 
will  be  (he  end :  and  hence  the  soul,  seeing  itself  thus  set  apart 
for  death,  looks  upon  itself  in  a  far  worse  estate  than  the  brute 
beasts,  or  vilest  worm  u])on  the  earth ;  for  it  thinks,  When  they 
.  die  there  is  an  end  of  their  misery ;  but  0,  then  is  the  beginning 
of  mine  forever.     Hence  also  arise  those  fears  of  death  and  of 
being  suddenly  cut  off,  that,  when  it  lies  down,  it  trembles  to 
think,  1  may  never  rise  again,  because  it  is  convinced,  not  only 
that  it  deserves  to  die,  but  that  it  is  already  sentenced  for  to  die : 
bence  aUo  the  soul  justifies  God,  if  he  bad  cut  him  off  in  his  sin ; 
L  aad  wonders  what  kept  him  from  it,  there  being  nothing  else  due 
La— I  God  unto  it:  hence,  lastly,  the  soul  is  stopped  and  stands 
BJBit^pM  not  on  in  sin  as  before ;  or  if  it  doth,  the  Lord  gives  jt 
^^HHMk    (Jer.  viii.  6.)     Why  doth  the  horse  go  on  in  the  bot- 
BKf 'Baeanse  it  sees  not  death  before  it;  but  now  the  soul  sees 
PSmA,  aitd  therefore  stops.    O,  remember  this,  all  you  that  neveri 
f  flould  believe  that  you  are  dead,  condemned  men,  and  therefore 
I  mn  never  troubled  with  any  such  thoughts  in  your  mind.     I  tell 
L  joo  that  you   are  far  from  conviction,  and  therefore  far  from 
E  Mlvation :  if  God  should  send  some  from  the  dead  lo  bear  witness 
K  against  this  secure  world  concerning  this  truth,  yet  you   will 
I  not  believe  it,  for  his  messengers  sent  from  heaven  are  not  be- 
I  B«ved  bereio ;  woe  be  to  you  if  you  remain  unconvinced  of  this 
k  point. 

I       But  you  will  say,  ^ow  Jolh  the  Lord  thus  convince  sm,  and 
I'Wherein  is  it  expressed  ?  which  is  the  third  porliculHr.  ^ 

I      All  knijwled|^e  of  sin  is  not  cppvictton  of  rin  ;  all  confession  of 


J 


THE   SOUND    BELIKTER. 


\^ 


An  > 


/mb  ia  not  eonyiclion ;  there  is  a  eonviction  mewly  rj^igmJ,  w 
V^iapot  flpiritnal/  there  are  three  things  in  spirit  ui^uonvicUoi 
!- "There  is  a  clear,  certain,  and  manifest  lijdit..g'i  that  the 
*  sees  its  sin.  and  deiith  flni  lo  it,  <:li;iirly  and  certainly ;  for  so 
word.  (John  xvi.  9)  iltYxtty  eigaifles  to  ovirlt-nce  a  thing 
way  of  argu  mental  ion,  naj,  demons  tratioiK  The  Spirit  so 
monstrates  these  things,  that  it  hath  nothing  to  object;  a  m. 
toouth  is  stopped ;  he  halh  nothing  lo  say  but  this:  Behold,! 
vile ;  I  am  a  dead  man ;  for  if  a  man  have  any  strong  argiunei 
fpven  him  to  confirm  a  truth,  yet  if  he  haTe  but  one  objection 
doubtful  scruple  not  answered,  he  ia  not  fully  as  yet  convini 
because  full  conviction  by  a  cle«r  sunlight  sicorters  all  dark 
jectioDs,  and  hence  our  Saviour  (Jude  15)  will  one  day  convi 
the  wicked  of  all  their  hard  spccehcs  against  him,  which  will 
chiefly  bo  done  by  manifesting  the  evil  of  such  ways,  and  taking 
away  all  those  colors  and  defenses  men  have  made  for  their  lan- 
guage. Before  the  Spirit  of  Christ  comun,  man  can  not  see,  will 
not  see  his  sin  for  punishment  i  nay,  he  hath  many  things  to  »Xf 
for  himself  as  excuses  and  extenuations  of  sin.  One  s^th,  I ' 
drawn  unto  it,  (the  woman  tliat  thou  gavcst  me,)  and  so  lays 
blame  on  others:  another  saith.  It  is  my  nature:  others  say,  All 
are  sinners ;  the  godly  tiin  aa  well  as  others,  and  yet  are  saved  a,t 
last,  and  so  I  hope  shall  I :  others  profess  they  can  not  part  with 
sin ;  they  would  be  better,  but  they  can  not,  and  God  requires  no 
more  tlian  they  are  able  to  perform :  another  saith,  I  will  con- 
tinue in  sin  but  a  little  while,  and  purpose  hereafter  to  leave  it: 
others  say,  We  are  aitmers,  but  yet  God  is  merciful,  and  will  for- 
give it:  another  saith.  Though  1  have  sinned,  yet  I  have  some 
good,  and  am  not  so  bad  as  other  men :  endless  are  these  excuses 
for  sin.  In  one  word,  I  know  no  man,  though  never  so  bad, 
though  him  sin  be  never  so  grievous,  but  he  halh  something  to  say 
for  himself,  and  something  in  his  mind  to  lessen  and  extenuate 
Bioj\but,  beloved,  when  the  Spirit  comes  to  convince,  he  so  con- 
▼mceth  Be  that  he  answers  all  these,  pulls  down  all  these  fences, 
tears  off  all  these  fig  leaves,  scatters  all  these  mists,  and  pulls  off 
all  these  scales  from  [he  eyes,  slops  a  man's  mouth,  that  the  soul 
stands  before  God,  crying,  O  Loni,  guilty,  guilty ;  as  the  proph- 
et Jeremy  told  them,  (Jer.  ii.  23,)  "  Why  dost  thou  say,  I  am 
innocent  ?  look  upon  thy  way,"  etc  So  the  Spirit  saith,  Whv 
dust  thou  say  thy  sin  is  small  7  it  is  disobedience,  as  Samuel 
said  to  Saul,  (1  Sam.  xv.  23,)  which  is  rel>eliiun,  and  as  the  sin 
of  witchcraft  i  and  is  that  a  small  matter  ?  The  Spirit  of  t-onvic- 
tion,  by  the  clear  evidence  of  the  truth,  binds  the  understanding 
"^  '.it  con  not  struggle  against  Ood  any  more;  and  hence  lotalL 


THR   30UNU    BELIEVEB. 

the  world  plead  lo  the  conimry,  nay,  lei  ihe  godly  come  to  com- 
fort Ihem  iD  tUU  estate,  and  lliink  and  s|icalc  well  of  tliem,  yet 
Ib^y  can  not  believe  them,  because  they  are  certain  their  estatea 
are  wofiil :  hence  also  we  sliall  observe  the  soul  under  coiivio 
tion  —  instead  of  encusing  aiii,  it  aggravates  sin,  aud  studies  to 
aggravate  sin.  Did  ever  any  deal  thus  wickedly,  walk  thus 
sinfully,  so  long  against  so  many  checks  and  chidings,  light  and 
love,  means  and  mercies,  a8  I  have  done  ?  And  it  ia  wondertul 
lo  observe  that  those  ibingH  which  made  it  once  account  sin  light 
make  it  therefore  to  think  sin  great ;  er-  jr.,  my  sin  is  lilUe. 
The  more  unkind  tliou  (sailh  the  Spirit)  that  wilt  not  do  a  small 
mailer  fur  the  Lord.  My  Bin  is  common.  The  more  sinful  thoii 
that  in  those  things  wherein  all  the  world  rise  up  in  anus  against 
God,  thou  joinest  wilh  them.  God  spares  me  aAer  sin.  The 
greater  is  thy  sin,  therefore,  that  thou  hast  continued  so  long  in, 
agauisi  a  God  so  pitiful  to  thee.  The  dearest  sine  »ro  now  the 
▼ilest  sins  i  because,  though  they  were  most  sweet  to  him,  yet 
the  Spirit  convinceth  him  they  were  therefore  tlic  more  grievous 
a  the  soul  of  God.  You  poor  cn^atures  may  now  hide,  and 
Dolor.  and  excuK  your  sins  before  men ;  but,  when  the  Lord 
les  to  convince,  you  can  not  lie  hid.  Then  your  consciences 
{when  Jesus  Christ  the  Lord  comes  to  convince)  shall  not  Iw 
Uke  the  steward  in  the  gospel  that  set  down  fil^y  for  a  hun- 
dred pounds.  No;  the  Lord  will  force  it  to  bring  in  a  true  and 
dear  account  at  that  day.  __ 

There  u  a  real  light  in  spiritual  conviction.  Rational  convic- 
tion makes  things  appear  notionally ;  but  spiritual  conviction, 
treally.  The  Spirit,  indeed,  useth  argumentation  in  conviciion ; 
1)ut  it  goeih  further,  and  causetli  ihe  sou)  not  only  to  see  sin  and 
death  discursively,  but  also  intuitively  and  reallyj.  Reason  can 
see  and  discourse  about  wdrds  and*  propositions,  and  beliold 
tilings  by  report,  and  to  deduct  one  thing  froin  another  ;  but  the 
Spirit  makcti  a  man  see  the  things  themselves,  reallywrapped  uj)  in 
thiMe  wnnta-  The  Spirit  brings  spiritual  ibings  SarTvell  as  notions  ^ 
before  a  man's  eye ;  Uie  light  of  llie  Spirit  is  like  the  light  of  iJi«y 
•un  — it  makes  all  things  appear  as  ihey  are.  (John  iii.  20.  21.) 
It  wiM  Jerusalem's  misery  she  hcani  the  words  uf  Chri.-'t,  and 
Ihi-y  were  not  bid  from  them  j  but  the  things  of  her  peace,  shut 
tip  in  thoae  words,  were  hTii  from  her  eyes.  Discourse  with 
many  a  man  altuul  lii^  sin  and  misery,  he  will  grant  all  that  you 
■ay.  and   be   U  coiivineed,  and   his  estate  is  mont  wrftvhol,  and 

,  Vet  alill  live*  in  all  miiniicr  of  t^in.     What   is   tlic   reason  uf  it? 

I  Truly,  he  spi.'s^liii  jiin-pnly  by  discoiirse,  but  he  doth  nut,  nuyv\ 
on  not,  9w  tli«  thing  sin,  dc«lh,^writE  of  God,  until  the  8piri| 


I 


y 


138  THE  sorsD  belitter. 

ceme,  wliicli  only  conviiieeth  or  showislb  lliitt  renlly.     A 
will  not  tie  arroid  of  a  lion  when  il  is  painted  only  upon  a 
Why  f     Bet^use  therein  he  dotli  not  see  the  living  lion  :  when 
he  sees  ihni  he  trembles.     So  men  hear  of  sin,  and  talk  of  sin 
and  death,  and  say  they  are  most  miserable  in  regard  of  both  i. 
yet  their  lieorts  tremble  not,  are  not  amazed  at  these  evils,  b 
rnuae  sin  is  not  seen  alive,  death  ts  not  presented  aliVe  befo 
them,  whieh  is  done  by  the  Spirit  of  eonviclion  only,  revenlini 
these  really  to  the   soul ;  and  hence   it   is   that  muny  men  f 
seeing  see  not.     How  can    that    be  ?     Thus,  in   seeing  ihii 
notionally  they  gee  them   not   renlly.     And   hence  many  t 
know  most  of  sin  know  leant  of  f\n,  because,  in  seeing  it  di 
tionaUy,  they  see  it  not  really.    And  thererore/happy  were  it  t( 
ilsome  men,  scholars  and  others,  that  they  had  no  notional  knoiri 
Hedge  of  sin;  for  this  light  ia  their  darkness,  and  makes  tltn 
(more  uncftpable  of  spiritual  cwnvirtion.     The  first  act  of  ipirf 
,  ual  conviction  is  to  let  a  man  see  clearly  that  he  is  sinful  ta.^  , 
'Inmost  miserable.    The  second  act  is  to  let  the  soul  see  really  what 
''J  this  sin  and  death  is.     O,  consider  of  this.     Blany  of  yon  know 
that  you  are  sinful,  and  that  jou  shall  die  ;  but  dost  thou  know 
what  sin  b,  and  what  it  is  to  die  ?     If  thou  didsl,  I  dare  say  thy 
heart  would  sink.     If  thou  dost  not,  thou  art  a  eondenmed  man, 
because  not  yet  a  convinced  man.     If  you  here  a«k  how  the 
_ I  Lord  makes  sin  real,  I  answer,  by  making  God  real;  the  real 
greatness  of  sin  is  seen  by  be  holding"  Willi)'  the  greatness  of  God, 
who  is  smitten  by  sin  ;  sin  is  not  seen  because  Godja^not  seen. 
(3  John  V.  11,)    "  He  llial   doth   evil  "Eith    rioTleeinGoa," 
No  knowledge  of  God  is  the  cause  why  blood  touchelh  blood. 
The  Spirit  casts   out   all   other  company  of  vain   and  foolish 
thoughts,  and  then  God  comes  in  and  appears  immediately  to 
the  soul  in  his  greatness  and  glory,  and  then  tlie  Spirit  saiih, 
Lo,  this  is  that  God  thy  sins  have  provoked.     And  now  sin  ap- 
pears as  it  is  ;  and,  together  with  ibis  real  sight  of  ein.  the  soul 
doth  not  see  painted  fire,  but  sees  the  lire  of  God's  wrath  really, 
whither  now  it  is  leadTng,  that  never  can  be  quenched  but  by 
Christ's  blood  ;  and,  when  the  Spirit  hHih  thus  convinced,  now  a 
man  begins  to  see  his  niudtiess  and  folly  in  limes  past,  saying, 
1  know  not  what  I  did ;  and  hence  questions.  Can  the  Lord  par- 
don such  a  wretch  as  I,  whose  sins  are  so  great?     Hence  also 
the  heart  begins  to  be  affected  witli  sin  and  death,  because  it  sees 
thjum  now  us  iliey  are  indeed,  and  nul  by  report  only. 

ais  it  a  mutter  of  nothing  lo  tread  upon  a  worm,  whei 
B  nothing  seen  worthy  either  to  be  loved  or  feared ;  and  hei 
I's  heart  is  not  aAecled  wiili  it.    Before  the  Spirit  of  con' 


I 


THE   SOmiD   BBUETER.  139 

tion  comes,  God  is  more  vile  in  man's  eye  than  &ny  worm.  As 
Christ  said  in  another  case  of  himaelt'.  (Vs.  xxii.,)  "  I  atn  a  worm, 
and  no  man,"  so  may  the  Lord  compLain,  I  am  viler  in  such  a 
one's  ejes  than  aay  worm,  and  no  God  ;  and  hence  a  man  makes 
it  a  mailer  of  nothing  to  tread  upoa  the  glorjoiu  majesty  of 
God,  and  hence  is  not  ikSecied  with  it ;  but  when  God  is  seen 
by  the  spirit  of  conviction  in  his  great  glory,  then,  as  he  is  great, 
sin  is  seen  great ;  as  his  glory  affects  and  aslonislielh  the  soal, 
BO  sin  aflVcts  the  heart. 

There  is  a  conelant  light;  the  soul  sees  sin  and  death  condn- 
iiaUy  before  it(  God's  arrows  stick  fast  in  the  soul,  and  cannot 
be  plucked  oqI.  "  My  sin  is  ever  before  me,"  said  David,  (in  hie 
renewing  of  the  work  of  conversion.)  For,  in  effectual  convic- 
tion, the  mind  is  not  only  bound  to  see  the  misery  lying  upon  it« 
but  it  is  held  bound;  it  is  such  a  sunlight  as  never  can  bel 
quenched,  though  it  may  be  clouded.  When  the  Spirit  of  Christ 
darts  in  any  Ught  to  see  sin,  the  soul  would  turn  away  from  look- 
ing upon  it,  would  not  bear  on  that  ear,  Felix-like.  But  the 
Spirit  of  conviction,  sent  to  make  tliorough ^ork  on  the  hearts 
of  all  the  elecl,  follows  them,  meets  them  at  every  turn,  forceth 
them  to  sec  and  remember  what  they  have  done.  The  least  un 
now  is  like  a  mote  in  the  eyo;  it  is  ever  troubling.  Those 
ghastly,  dreadful  objects  of  sin,  death,  vrrath,  being  presented  > 
by  the  Spirit  near  unto  the  soul,  fix  the  eye  to  fasten  here.  Thej 
that  con  cast  off*  at  their  pleasure  the  remembrance  and  thoughts 
'  1  and  death,  never  prove  sound,  until  the  Lord  doth  make 
them  slay  their  thoughts,  and  muse  deeply  on  what  tlicy  have 
done,  and  whither  they  are  going.  And  hence  the  soul,  in  lying 
down,  rising  up,  lies  down  and  rises  up  with  perplexed  thoughts. 
What  will  become  of  me  ?  The  Lord  sometimes  keeps  it  wajiing 
'n  ihii  night  season,  when  others  are  asleep,  and  then  it  is  haunt- 
ed with  those  thoughts,  it  can  not  sleep.  It  looks  back  ui)Oti 
every  day  and  week.  Sabbath,  sermon,  prayer,  speeches,  and 
thinks  all  this  day,  this  week,  etc.,  the  goodness  of  the  l^ord 
and  his  patience  to  a  wretch  Iiath  been  continued ;  but  my  sins  also 
are  continued ;  I  sin  in  all  I  do,  in  all  my  prayers,  in  all  I  think ; 
,be  same  heart  renmins  still  not  humbled,  not  yet  unchanged. 

And  hence  you  shall  observe,  (hat  word  which  discovered  sin 
M  first  to  it,  it  never  goes  out  of  the  mind.  I  tliink,  saith  th«  .. 
•oul,  I  shall  never  forget  such  a  man,  nor  such  a  truth.  Uence 
also  if  the  soul  grow  light  and  careless  at  some  time,  and  casts 
off  the  Ihongbts  of  thrse  things,  the  Spirit  rctoms  again,  and 
fiiUs  a-tuuonittg  with  tlic  soul :  Why  hnst  thou  done  this  P 
ynM  hurt  hath  the  Lord  done  Ihec  ?     Will  there  never  be  an 


i3n 


THE   SOrWD   BELIEVER. 


end  ?  Host  not  thou  gone  ua  long  cnounb  in  tliy  lewd  conrs 
against  God,  but  that  thou  6hollldc^t  still  udd  unlo  the  he 
UrsI  thou  not  wrath  enough  npon  Ihee  already  ?  How  ( 
maj  the  Lord  slop  thy  breath  [  and  then  thou  knowest  t 
hadst  better  never  to  have  been  bom.  Waa  tliere  ever  any  tl 
thus  reaiated  grace  ?  that  thus  adventured  upon  the  sword  poii 
Hast  thou  but  one  Friend,  a  patient,  long-suffering  God,  that  b 

ileft  thy  conscience  without  exeuse  long  ago,  and  IheTefore  eo: 
have  cut  thee  off?  and  dost  tliou  thus  forsal^  him,  thus  abna 
him  ?  Thus  the  Spirit  follows ;  and  hence/the  soul  ( 
Rtme  measure  of  confession  of  sin :  0  Low,  I  have  done  e 
ceeding  wickedly  ;  I  have  been  worse  than  the  horse  that  r 
eth  into  the  battle  because  it  sees  not  death  before  it ;  bi 
have  seen  death  before  me  in  lliese  ways,  and  yol  go  on,  and  still 
Bin,  and  can  not  but  sin.  Behold  me,  Lord,  for  I  am  very  vile./ 
"When  IhuB  the  Spirit  hath  let  into  the  soul  a  clear,  real,  constant 
light  to  see  sin  and  death,  now  there  is  a  thorough  conviction. 
But  you  will  aay,  In  what  measure  doth  the  Spirit  communis 
\    cUe  this  light? 

\       I  shall  therefore  open  the  fourth  particular,  viz.:  The  n 
.  ~1  ure  of  spiritual   conviction  in   all  the  elect,  viz.,  so  much  < 
"Hction  of  sin  as  may  bringjn  and  work  compunction  for  s 
mocfa  sight  of  sin  as  may  bring  m  B^nse  oF  sin :  so  much 
cessary,  and  no  more.     Every  one  hath  not  the  same  measure  d 
conviction  ;  yet  all  the  elect  have  and  must  have  so  much ;  foiM 

\so  much  conviction  is  necessary  as  may  attain  the  end  of  convia^g 
tlon.  Now,  the  Jinig  proximuM,  or  nest  end,  of  conviction  ii 
elect,  is  compunction  or^jengg^  of  sin  ;  for  what  good  can  it  dtffl 
unlo  tliem  to  see  sin.  and  nofToBe  affected  wilh  it?  What 
greater  mercy  doth  the  Lord  show  lo  ihe  elect  therein  than 
unlo  the  deviU  and  reprobates  who  stand  convinced,  and  know 
they  are  wicked  and  condemned,  but  yet  their  hearts  altogether 
unaffected  with  any  true  remorse  for  sin  ?  "  Mine  eye,"  saith 
Jeremy,  "  affeelelh  my  heart."  The  Lord  opens  the  ears  of  men 
and  sealelh  instruction,  that  he  may  hide  pride  from  man.  Some 
■  '  think  that  there  ia  no  thorougli  conviction  without  some  affection. 
I  dare  not  say  so,  nor  will  I  now  dispute  whether  thei'e  i 
Gomething  in  the  nature  and  essence  of  lliat  conviction  the  elec 
have  different  from  that  conviction  in  reprobates  and  devils. 
is  BuOicient  now.  and  that  which  teacheth  the  end  of  this  quM 
tion,  lo  know  what  measure  of  conviction  is  necessary-  ' 
ceive  the  clear  discerning  of  it  is  by  the  immediate  and 
effect  of  it,  viz.,  so  much  as  affects  the  heart  truly  with 

But  if  you  ask,  What  is  that  sense  of  sin,  and  what  measta 


THE   SDCN'D    BELIl^VES.  131 

flf  this  ta  necessaiy?  that  I  ah&lt  answer  in  the  doctriDe  of  com- 

Let  ttot  therefore  anj  soul  be  discouraged,  emd  saj,  I  was 
sever  yet  convinced,  becaude  I  have  not  felt  such  a  clear,  real, 
constant  light  to  see  sin  and  death  ua  others  have  done.  Con- 
uder  thou  if  the  end  of  conviction  be  atlained,  which  is  a  true 
sense  and  feeling  of  sin,  thou  bast  then  that  measure  which 
is  most  meet  for  thee,  more  than  which  the  Lord  regards  not  ' 
in  any  of  his.  But  you  that  walk  up  and  down  with  convinced 
consciences,  and  know  your  stales  are  miserable  and  sinful,  and 
that  you  perish  if  you  die  in  that  condition,  and  yet  have  no  sense 
nor  feeling,  no  sorrow  nor  offliclionof  spirit  for  those  evils,  I  tell 
thee  the  very  devils  are  in  some  respects  nearer  the  kingdom  of 
God  than  you  be,  who  see,  and  feel,  and  tremble.  Woe,  woe  to 
thousands  that  live  under  convicting  ministries,  whom  the  word 
often  hits,  and  the  Lord  by  the  Spirit  often  meets :  and  tUey 
hear  and  know  their  sins  are  many,  their  estates  bad,  and  that 
iniquity  will  be  their  ruin  if  thus  they  continue ;  yet  all  God's 
light  is  without  heat,  and  it  is  but  the  shining  of  it  upon  rocka 
and  cold  stones;  they  ar«  frozen  in  their  dregs.  Be  it  known 
to  you,  you  have  not  one  drop  of  that  conviction  which  begins 
■alvation.  Before  I  pass  from  this  to  the  second  work  of  com- 
punction, let  roe  make  a  word  of  application. 

If  the  Spirit  be^ns  thus  with  conviction  of  sin.  then  let  all  I 
the  ministers  of  Christ  co-work  with  Christ,  and  begin  with  their  I 
people  here :  be  faithful  witnesses  unto  God's  truth,  and  give  j  h 
warning  to  this  secure  world  that  the  sentence  of  death  is  passed,  I  ^M 
snd  the  curse  of  God  lies  upon  every  man  for  the  least  sin.  "  Lift  I  ^| 
Bp  thy  voice  like  a  trumpet,"  was  the  Lord's  word  to  Isaiah,  (is.  ^| 
Iviii.  2,)  "and  tell  them  their  sin."  Those  bees  we  call  dronea 
that  have  lost  their  sting.  When  the  salt  of  the  earth  (the  min- 
islcrs  of  Christ,  Matt  v.)  have  lost  their  acrimony  and  sharp- 
ness, or  snltness,  what  is  it  good  for  but  to  be  cast  o  '  " 
hearers  will  putrefy  and  corrupt  by  hearing  such  doctrines  only 
■s  never  search.  When  the  Lord  inflicted  a  grievous  curse  upon  _ 
the  people,  (Etek.  iii.  2i>,)  the  Lord  made  Exekiel  dumb  thalA  I 
he  should  not  be  a  reprover  to  them.  What  was  the  lamenfation  il 
of  Jeremy?  "Thy  prophets  have  seen  vain  and  foolish  things  11 
£)r  thee,  and  have  not  discovered  thine  iniquity."     How  would    /  I 


t  m\  / 

heir  | 


ru  have  the  Ivord  Jesus  by  his  Spirit  to  convince  men  ?     MusL 
not  be  by  his  word  ?    Verily  you  keep  the  Spirit  of  Christ  I ' 


^  Verily  you  keep  the  Spirit  of  Cliri 

from  falling  down  upon  the  people  if  you  refuse  to  endeavor  to  I 
convince  the  people  by  your  word.  Other  doctrines  are  sweet  | 
Bod  necessary;  but  litis  is  in  the  fini  place  most  neceseary. J. 


i 


into ,— 


ISS  THE   SOUND   BELIEVER. 


of  pontotiAtln^,  bewAre  of  bitterness  anil  passion  ; 
0.  convince  wilb  a  spirit  of  power  aud  compassion  ;  and  he 
sCall  be  instrumenlsl  unto  Christ  in  this  or  any  other  worfe 
Christ's  Bfike,  unto  him  the  Lord  will  bo  the  principal  agent, . 
by  him  will  attain  his  own  enda,  finish  liia  gretit  work,  gat! 
in  his  Bcntlered  ehcep  who  are  in  ^reat  multitudes  ihrough< 
the   kingdom  BCAttercd  from    bira,  if  once  they  be  ihoroogl 
conrinoed  that  thcj  are  ntierlj  losl,  nnd  gone  out  of  the  ws 
May  not  thia  also  be  sad  reproof  and  terror  to  ihem  that 
it  out  ngninit  all  means  of  conviction,  and  will  not  see  ihe^ 
em,  nor  believe  the  fearful  wrath  of  God  due  to  them  for  sin 
Not  a  man  Guarce  can  be  found  that  will  come  to  this  eonclu 
Bion :  I  am  a  sinful  man,  and  therefore  I  am  dead  ;  I  am 
demned  man  ;  hul,  like  wild  benals,  fly  from  thuir  pursuers  into 
their  holes,  and  tbickelfl,  and  dens  —  their  sinful  extenuatii 
excuses,  and  apologies  for  sin  and  for  themselves  ;  and  if 
he  hunted  thither,  and  found  out  there,  then  they  resist,  and 
cle  against  that  truth  which  troubles  them.    ''They  flatter  them- 
selves in  their  own  eyea  until  their  iniquities  be  found  mosl 
hateful."     Many  a  man  diiitikes  the  text,  the  use,  especially  the 
long  use,  wherein  his  sin  is  touched,  and  his  conscience  tossed  — 
especially  if  it  be  his  darling  sin,  his  Herodias,  his  Rimmon  — 
especially  if  willial  he  thinks  that  the  minister  means  him,  he 
will  not  see  it  nor  confess  it  —  especially  if  ho  apprehends  ho 
shall  lose  his  honor,  or  his  silver  shrines,  and  profit  by  it.     He 
will  not  see  his  sin  that  he  may  not  be  troubled  in  conscience 
for  his  sin,   that  so  he  may  not  be  forced  to  confess  and  for- 
enite  bis  sin,  and  condemn  himself  for  it  before  God  and  men. 
O  Lord,  I  mourn  that  I  i:;m  scarce  m(H;t  with  a  man  that  cither 
cares  to  be,  or  will  be,  convinced,  but  halh  something  always  to 
say  for  himself:  their  sins  aro  not  so  great,  they  are  not   so 
bad,  but  bare  some  good,  and  therefore  have  some  hope;  and, 
it  God  be  merciful,  it  is  no  great  matter  though  they  be  exccedi 
tfig  sinful,  or  some  such  thing;   their  mouths  are  not  stop]    * 
''  say  any  thing  lor  themselves  but  guilty.     There  is  less  e 
ition  in  the  world  in  this  age  than  many  are  aware  of;  for 
jlieve  that  all  the  powers  of  hell  conspire  together  to  blind  mc; 
^os   and   darken  men's   minds    in   (his    great   work   of  Clirisfe' 
Prirtcipiit  obila.     It  is  policy  to  stop  Christ  in  his  entrance  hi' 
this  lirst  stroke  upon  the  soul  ;  but  O,  little  do  you  think  whid 

eiu  do  herein,  and  what  woe  you  work  to  yoursplvos  hereby. 
osC  thou  stiHe  and  resist  the  first  breathings  of  Christ's  Spirit 
when  he  comes  to  save  thee?  What  hurt  will  it  be  to  know  the 
ww6t  of  thy  condition  now,  when  there  is  hope  hereby  of  coming 


cut  of  it,  who  must  else  one  day  ace  all  thy  "  sins  in  order  before 
lh«e,"  to  thy  eternal  anguish  anil  terror  ?  (Ps.  I.  21.)  When  (he 
liord  sball  say  unto  (bee  aa  to  Dives,  ''  Remember  in  thy  life- 
time iliou  \milit  thy  good  things,"  remember  suob  a  time,  such  a 
plaoe,  Huch  a  sin  ;  which  tlien  you  would  not  see.  But  now  thou 
■halt  see  what  il  is  to  strike  an  infinite  God.  Remember  Lhou 
wasl  forewarned  of  wrath  to  come,  but  thou  wouldest  not  believe 
thyself  accursed,  thatso  lhou  mightest  have  felt  thy  need  of  Him 
(hat  was  made  a  eurse  to  bless  thee  ;  and  therefore  feel  it  now  ; 
O,you  will  wish  then  that  you  had  known  this  evil  in  that  your 
day.  What  doat  thou  talk  of  grace  ?  lhou  thinkesl  thou  bast 
grace,  when  as  thou  hast  not  the  first  beginning,  nay,  not  the  most 
remote  preparation  for  it  in  this  work  of  conviction :  what  shoiild 
we  do  for  such  as  these,  but  with  Jeremy,  (Jer.  liii.  17,)  "If 
jou  will  not  hear,  my  aonl  shall  weep  in  secret  for  your  pride "?    / 

0,  be  persuaded,  therefore,  to  remember  your  sina  past,  and  toy 
consider  of  your  ways  now.  All  the  profaneness  of  thy  heart  and 
life,  all  the  vanity  of  thy  youth,  (Eccl.  xi.  9,)  all  your  secret  sins, 
■11  your  ains  against  light  and  love,  checks  and  vows ;  all  that 
lime  wherein  thou  didst  nothing  else  but  live  in  sin  ;  thus  God's 
people  have  done,  (Ezek.  vi.  %)  thus  all  the  elect  shall  do.  O, 
consider  the  Lord  remembers  them  all,  and  tlwt  with  grief  of 
heart  against  thei>,  because  thou  forgetlest  them.  (IIO0.  ii.  7.)  He 
that  numbers  thy  hairs,  and  telle  the  sparrows  that  fall,  numbers 
much  more  thy  sins  that  fall  from  thee ;  they  are  written  down  in 
hid  black  book.  They  are  no  trifles,  for  he  minds  not  toys  (  the 
books  must  be  opened.  O,  reckoo  now  you  have  yet  lime  to  call 
them  lo  mind,  which  it  may  be  shall  not  continue  long ;  it  is  the 
Lord's  complaint  (Jer.  viii.  6)  of  a  wicked  generation, "  that 
he  could  hear  no  man  say,  What  have  I  done  ?  "  "  Winnow  your- 
selves," (as  the  word  is,  Zeph.  ii.  1,)  ■•  0  people  not  worthy  to  be 
beJoTcd."  I  pronounce  unto  you  from  the  eternal  God,  that  ere 
long  the  Lord  will  search  out  Jerusalem  with  candles ;  he  will 
come  with  a  sword  in  his  hand  to  search  for  all  secure  sinners  in 
city  and  country,  unless  you  awakon ;  he  will  make  inquitition  for 
blood,  for  oaths,  for  whoremongers,  which  grow  common ;  for  all' 
secret  sins  we  are  frozen  up  in.  O,  be  willing,  be  but  willing  that 
the  Lord  should  search  you  and  convince  you,  now  in  ibis  evening 
timo  of  theday.  before  ihe  night  come,  wherein  it  will  be  too  lal« 
to  say,  I  wish  I  had  considered  of  my  ways  in  lime  :  of  all  sins, 
none  cim  so  hardly  stand  with  uprightness  as  a  secret  unwilling- 
no*  to  Rcc  and  be  convinced  of  sin.  (John  iiL  20,21.)  The  helps 
and  mi-'ons  fur  attaining  hereunto  arc  these :  — 

Bring  thy  soul  to  the  light,  desire  the  Lord  in  prayer,  as  JiA 
TOL.  I.  12 


\M 


V-  ^  '•^"' 


TBP.   SOVMD   BELIEVCR. 


:iv.  3^    ! 


did.  "TVTiat  Isee  not.OLord,show  me."  (.Tob  xxxiv.  32.) 
the  glass  of  G<>d's  law  before  thee  ;  look  up  in  (lie  ministry  of  the 
wora  unio  the  Lord,  nnil  say,~0  Lord,  search  me :  Ihe  sun  of  this 
tioly  word  discovers  motes  :  on  the  Sabbath  daj  attend  to  alt  that 
which  is  spoken  as  spoken  unto  thee ;  then  examine  thyself  when 
lliou  hast  leisure.  When  David  saw  (Ps.  xisO  how  pure  the  law  ^ 
^    waa,  he  cries  out,  "Who  knows  his  errors?!*'  ^J 

^       LcKik  upon  every  eonviciion  of  diy  consciencf  fnr  »ip  aafll^| 
'      arrest  and  warning  gireiTn'Oili  lilt!  LOHl  WlSseTf;  for  somelimOt^V 
the  word  hits,  and  conscience  startles,  and  saitb,  This  is  my  sin,  my    " 
condition ;  yet  how  usual  it  is  then  for  a  man  to  put  a  merry  face 
upon  a  foul  conscience  !  how  ad  do  men  think  this  is  but  the  word 
of  a  man  who  hath  a  latitude  given  him  of  reproving  sin  in  Ihe 
pulpiu  and  we  must  give  way  to  them  therein  I  or  else  their  hearts   I 
rise  and  swell  against  the  man  and  word  also.     And  why  ii 
thus?     Becausehethinksilismanonlyibatsp^aks;  whereasdW[ 
he  see  and  believe  that  this  ivas  a  stroke,  a  warning,  an  arrest,  1^ 
check  from  the  omnipotent  God,  would  he  (hen  gnipplc,think  y< 
with  him  ?    Would  it  pa£s  lightly  by  hira  then  ?     When  Eli  hea 
Samuel  denounced  sad  things  against  his  house,  "  It  is  the  Lord,"! 
said   Kli.  (1   Sam.  iii.  Iti.)     When  Paul  saw  Jesus  speahini 
"  Why  persecutest  thou  me  ?  "  ( Acis  ix.,)  he  falls  down  aslonishea 
and  dares  not  kick  against  the  pricks  any  longer ;  an  arrest  h 
the  king's  name  comes  with  authority,  luid  awes  tlie  heart  of  11 
man  in  debt. 

Do  not  judge  of  sin  by  any  other  rule  but  as  God  judgeth  of 
il,  according  to  Ihe  fule  of  the  word  by  which  all  men's  ways  shall 
l>e  judged  at  the  last  day.     What  made  Saul  (1  Sam.  xv.)  ex- 
tenuate his  sin  to  Samuel  ?    He  judged  not  of  it  as  the  Lord  in  liU  - . 
word  did ;  for  had  he  done  so,  he  would  have  seen  disobedieiM' 
to  a  command  as  bad  as  wit4:hcrall,  as  Samuel  told  him  ; 
also  made  his  proud  heart  sink,  and  say,  I  have  sinned  :  n 
ber  for  this  end  these  scriptures,  (Rom.  i.  18;  Rom.  ii. 'J  ;  1 
vi.  23  i  Gal.  iii.  10,)  by  which  (hou  mayest  see,  either  I  must  d 
(in  (lie  state  I  am,)  or  God  himself  must  lie.     Itemember  lliat  M 
angry  look  or  word  is  murder  in  God's  ac 
an  unchaste  thought,  is  odullL-ry  beibre  a  holy  God,  before  whoMH 
tribunal  thou  must  give  an  ai-count  of  every  vaiu  thought  aafti 
word.     Anil  therefore  do  not  judge  of  an  by  the  present  pleajp^ 
ure,  gain,  honor,  or  ease  in  it ;  for  this  is  a  false  rule :  MosM  '. 
forsook  the  pleasures  of  sin  Ibr  a  season,"  (Heb-  xi,  25  i)  nor 
\  yet  by  noi  foeling  any  punishment  for  it,  for  God  resexves  wrath 
(Nullum  i.  2)  till  the  day  of  reckoning ;  nor  yel  by  the  esteem 
that  others  generally  have  of  it,  who  make  no  more  of  woundiojr 


THE  aOUSD   SELieVEB. 


185 


the  Son  of  God  by  sio  than  they  do  of  crushing  ver 
their  feel ;  nor  jet  by  the  practice  of  others :  Every 

»'  ftnd  therefore  I  hope  I  shall  do  as  well  as  others  ;  nor  yet  aeeing 
thyself  better,  and  thanking  God  thou  art  not  as  other  men  :  it 
nay  be  so,  thou  didet  never  steal,  nor  wliore,  nor  murder  as  yet :  / 
1  that  la  not  the  question ;  but  hast  thou  hud  any  one  vain  thought^^ 
in  prayer?  hast  thou  heard  one  sermon  unprolilably ?  hast  thou 
sinned  ?  then  knon  God  spared  not  the  angels  th»t  sinned,  and 
how  wilt  thou  escape,  unless  the  Lord  die  for  tliee  ?  —  mx  yet, 
lastly,  judge  of  it  by  ihy  own  opinion  of  God,  in  thinking  God 
is  like  unto  thee,  that  as  thou  makest  light  of  it,  so  he  maketh 
less.  (Pb.  1.  21.)  O,  take  heed  of  judging  the  evil  of  sin  by 
any  of  these  rules :  O,  remember  ^1  men  are  apt  to  think  of  i 
themselves  better  than  they  are:  "  Are  we  also  blind  ?  "  say  the 
Pharisees :  tzike  beed  that  by  judging  of  sin  by  these  false  rules 
you  deceive  not  yourselves. 

Let  this,  lastly,  be  a  use  of  thankfulnese  to  all  thwe  whose  eyes 
the  Lord  hath  opened  to  see,  and  so  convincing  you  uf  your  sins. 
When  David  was  going,  in  the  heat  of  his  spirit,  to  kill  Nabal,  and 
Abigail  met  him  and  stopped  him,  wbat  said  he  F  "0,  blessed 
be  the  Lord  for  thy  counsel ; "  so  when  thou  wert  going  on,  in  the 
beat  and  pursuit  of  thy  sin,  toward  eternal  death,  that  the  Lord 
should  now  meet  thee  in  thy  way,  and  conWnce  thee  of  thy  folly, 
and  so  stop  thee,  what  a  world  of  sin  else  wouldst  thou  have  com- 
mitted !  how  vile  wouliiest  thou  have  been  !  O,  say,  therefore, 
Blesscil  be  that  minister  of  the  Lord,  and  blessed  forever  be  the 
name  of  ilic  Lord  that  gave  me  that  counsel.  It  is  said,  Christ 
will  "  send  the  Comforter  to  convince  of  sin : "  is  it  m  comfortable 
thing  to  see  sin  ?  Yes,  it  shall  one  day  be  matter  of  unspeakable/ 
Qomforiio  you  that  ever  you  saw  sin  ;  that  ever  he  showed  thee 
■hat  mystery  of  iniquity  in  thy  heart  and  life,  those  arcema  im- 
»enV,  those  secrets  of  the  power  and  dominion  of  sin  over  theo  :  ' 
Thou  shalt  notbate.  bat  reprove  thy  brother.  If  the  Lord  should 
Kcreily  keep  thy  sin  glowing  in  his  own  bosom  against  thee,  and 
Dcver  reprove  thee  for  it,  nor  convince  thee  of  it,  no  greater  y 
sign  of  God's  everlasting  hatred  against  thee.  O,  it  is  infinite  lovev 
that  he  bath  called  thee  aside  and  dealt  plainly  and  secr^J)  with 
thee,  and  will  you  not  be  thankful  for  this  ?  The  Lord  might 
have  led  thee  in  ihy  brutish  estate,  and  never  made  known  ihy 
latter  end  ;  never  have  told  thee  of  thy  sin  or  flood  before  it  comes. 
It  may  be  you  will  say.  If  I  felt  my  sin,  and  were  deeply  hum- 
bled for  it,  I  coutd  then  be  thankful  that  ever  I  saw  it :  what  is  it 

This  is  a  favor  the  Lord  shows  not  to  all  mankind;  many  have 


186  THK   SOUND    BELIEVER. 


no  meana  to  bring  lliem  to  the  knowledge  of  it,  find  those 
liHve  yet  ari;  smitten  with  a  dnep  sleep  under  ihaie  means,  fha 
they  know  not  when  death  ia  at  their  doors,  nor  what  sin  means' 
and  this,  it  maji'  be,  ia  the  condition  of  some  of  thy  poor  friendi 
and  acquaintiiace,  that  think  it  strange  tbat  thou  runnest  not  will 
tbein  in  llie  same  way  as  they  do. 

Suppose  soma  reprobates  do  eec  sin ;  yet  Ihe  Lord  puts  a  secrei, 
Tirtue  in  that  work  of  conviction  upon  thee,  which  makes  theecrj 
to  Heaven  for  a  apirit  of  brokennesa  for  ein,  which,  without  thu^^ 
Bight  of  sin,  thou  wouldest  never  so  much  as  have  desired ; 
this  they  have  not. 

However,  conviction  ia  a  work  of  the  Spirit,  though  it  shouUt 
'  be  but  common :  and  wilt  not  tbou  be  thankful  for  common  mercjj 
suppose  it  be  outward  ?  tlow  much  more  for  this  that  is  spiritual 
though  it  should  be  common  I  especially  considering  that  it  isth» 
first  fundamental  work  of  the  Spirit,  and  U  seminally  all.  Senae; 
of  ain  begins  here,  and  ariaeth  hence 
inally  aU  sin.  Remember  that  the  discovery  of  Faux  in  the  vault' 
was  the  preservation  of  England  :  we  use  to  remember  the  day 
and  hour  of  the  beginning  of  some  great  and  notable  deliverance: 
0,  remember  this  time,  wherein  the  love  of  Christ  first  brake  on*' 
in  convincing  thee  of  thy  sin,  who  else  hodst  certainly  perished: 
in  it.  And  thus  much  of  this  first  work  of  conviction.  Now 
second  follows  —  compunction. 

Section  III. 

Tie  Kcoiid  Act  of  ChrltCs  Power,  in  working  Conjunction,  ow 

Sense  of  Sin. 

"XoMri:scnus,4iricking  at.ihe  learU  oE-senae  jmdJJceliu&jf ' 
*  I  BJn-  i*  different  from  cotiyiclioaof 9Jn  :  the  latter  is  the  work  of' 

the  ^eo^ns^^qd  will,  and  seated'  tFereHi~principaily :  a  man 
may  have  sEght  of  sin"  without  sorrow  and  sense  of  it.  (Dan.  v. 
S3,  with  20,  21.  James  i.  24.  Rom.  ii.  20,  21.)  Tel  that  con- 
,  ,viction  which  the  Spirit  works  in  the  elect  is  ever  accompanied 
with  compunction,  first  or  last.  For  the  better  unfolding  this 
point,  let  me  open  these  four  things  to  you  :  — 

1.  That  compunction  or  sense  of  sin  immediately  follows 
viciion  of  sin  in  the  day  of  Christ's  power. 

2.  The  necesaity  of  ibis  work  to  succeed  the  other. 

3.  Wherein  it  consist. 
L  The  measure  of  it  in  all  the  elect. 


THE   SOUND   BF.LIETBR 

That  compunction  follows  conviclion  ia  eridebt  from 
•rd  reason.  (Acts  ii.  37.)  When  lliey  heurd  this,  thnt  is,  wl 
"they  MiV  Btlll  were  convinecil  of  their  sin  in  cnicifyihg  the  Lord 
of  life,  which  they  did  not  imagine  to  be  a  sin  before,  what 
follows  next  ?  It  b  said.  •'  Ther  w^e  pricked  at  the  heart."  Lo, 
here  Li  compunction.  E))hraim,  also,  tn  turning  udio  Hod,  ^Jer. 
xxxi.  19.)  hath  these  words:  *'At\er  that  I  was  instructed,  I  smote 
upon  my  thigh,"  (ai  men  in  great  calamity  befallen  them  use  to 
do.)  "  I  was  ashamed,  even  confounded,  because  1  did  bear  the 
reproach  of  my  youth."  The  men  of  NineTeh  bearing  by  the 
prophet  they  were  all  to  die  witJjin  forty  days,  it  is  said  "  they 
believed  God,"  (in  the  work  of  conviction,)  and  then  they  fell  to 
sackcloth  and  ashes,  (in  the  work  of  compunction,)  which  did 
immediately  follow.  Josiah.  (2  Chron.  xxxiv.  27.)  in  his  renewed 
return  unto  God,  after  he  heard  the  words  of  the  law,  "  his  heart 
melted,  and  be  wept  before  the  Lord."  For  what  is  the  end  of 
raiivictlon  ?  Ia  it  not  compunction  ?  for  if  the  Lord  should  let  a 
man  see  his  sin.  and  death  for  sin,  and  yet  suffer  the  heart  lo 
remain  bard  and  unaffected,  the  Lord  did  but  leave  him  without 
excuse  ;  nay,  the  Lord  should  but  leave  him  under  flTTfll  "nityfT 
and  under  a  "V'ZI^-fcB^jul  j"^tg'n°"'.  viz.,  for  a  man  to  see  and 
know  his  sin,  and  yet  unaffected  with  it,  and  hardened  under  it : 
hardness  of  heart  is  one  of  the  j^cateat  judgments ;  to  see  sin, 
and  not  to  be  affected  with  il,  argues  greater  hardness.  Fur  it 
is  no  wonder  if  they  that  see  not  and  know  not  sin  remain  senstt- 
less  of  sin  ;  alas !  they  know  not  what  they  do  ;  but  for  a  man  to 
be  enlightened,  and  see  his  sin,  and  yet  unaffected.  Lord,  bow 
great  is  this  hardnci^,  and  how  unexcusable  will  such  a  man  In 
teft  before  Go<l,  when  the  Lord  shull  reckon  with  him  for  lits 
hudneM  of  heart  1  What  is  the  end  of  that  light  the  Lortl 
I  letj  into  the  understanding  in  other  things  ?  Is  it  not  (hiil  tbi<re- 
I  by  llie  lieart  mi;;ht  bo  affected  throughly  with  it  ?  Why  duHT 
the  txird  let  in  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  Chrial  nnd  of  hi 
will  y  Is  it  tliHt  this  knowledge  should,  like  froth,  tl<i»t  in  th 
understanding,  and  be  imprisoned  there  ?  No,  verily,  but  dial 
ibe  heart  might  be  throughly  and  deeply  affected  therewltlj 
And  do  you  think  the  Lord  will,  in  the  light  of  conviction,  im- 
I  prison  it  up  in  the  mind  ?  Ia  tlicre  not  a  further  end  that  by 
'  thb  light  li)e  heart  might  be  deeply  affected  with  sin  ?  If  any 
'  tty  that  the  end  of  conviction  is  to  drive  the  soul  to  Christ,  I 
p-ant  ttiat  is  the  remote  and  last  end  of  it ;  but  the  next  end  is 
.  coinminctioii.  For  if  the  undersiunding  he  convinced  of  misury. 
'  «D<[llit>  heart  rciniun  hard,  the  mind  may  see  indeed  that  righ" 
,    eouanesd  luid  life  only  are  to  be  had  in  Christ ;  yet  the  hcurl 


138  THE   90UMD    BCLtGVEB. 

remnining:  hanl,  itic  wdlLjiaJ_a2?EU2Pa-KiU    

■•  Clirist  t  it  is  impossilile  n  liiird  lieurl,  rpniaining  auch,  whoUj  ii 
iiHei^ted  witii  mh  or  misery,  ^houltl  bi^  truly  effected  with  Jesus 
Christ;  butof  IIiIb  more  hereafter. 

What  necessity  is  (here  of  iLia  com  pun  el  ion,  to  succeed  convio-    / 
tion  ?     I  speak  now  of  necessity  in  way  of  ordinary  dispensation,  V 
not  of  God'a  usual  and  exlranrdinary  way  of  working,  where  he 
uaeth  neither  law  nor  gospel  (as  ordinarily  he  doth)  to  work 
by.     Many  have  been  nibbling  lately  at  this  doctrine,  and  de- 
manded, Wlutt  need  is  there  of  sorrow  and  compunction  oU 
heart?     A  man  may  be  converted  only  by  the  gospel,  and  " 
may  let  in  sweetness  and  joy  witliout  any  sense  of  sin  or  ml 
nnd  in  my  experience  I  have  found  it  so;   others,  godly 
gracious,  also  feel  it  so;  why,  therefore,  do  any  press  such 
necessity  of  coming  in  by  this  hack  door  unto  Christ?     Tb 
point  I  conceive  is  very  weighty,  and  much  danger  in  denyii 
the  truth  of  it;  yet,  withal,  there  needs   much  tenderness 
hnndling  of  it,  lest  any  stumble ;  and  therefore,  before  Z  ta] 
down  the  reasons  to  show  the  necessity  of  it,  give  me  teai 
propound  these  rules  both  for  the  clearing  of  the  point, 
answering  sundry  objections  usually  about  this  point :  — 

In  this  work  of  compunction,  do  not  think  that  the  Lord 
not  wrought  any  true  sense  of  sin,  because  you  find  it  not 
such  a  measure  as  you  imagiiic  you  should  desire  to  have, 
i_,thiit  others  feel;  sense  of  sin  admiu  degrees.  I  doubt  not  Dut 
Josepli's  bretliren"^LT9tlllftiined;  yet  Joseph  must  be  more ;  be 
must  be  cast  into  the  ditcli,  and  into  t tie  prison,  and  the  iron 
mpst  enter  not  only  Into  his  legs,  but  iulo  his  soul.  (Ps.  cv.  16.) 
Hs  must  be  more  ufflicicd  in  spirit,  because  he  was  to  do  greater 
,  work  for  God,  and  was  to  be  raised  up  higher  than  the  rest,  and 
therefore  did  need  the  more  ballast  r  some  are  educated  more 
civilly  than  others,  and  thereby  have  contracted  less  guilt  and 
stoutness  of  heart  against  God  and  his  ways;  therefore  tliese 
have  not  such  cause  of  trouble  ;  and  being  less  rugged,  have  less 
need  of  axes  to  hew  them :  some  men's  sorrow  breaks  in  upon 
them  more  suddenly,  like  storms  and  breaches  of  the  sea,  and 
tlte  Lord  is  resolved  to  hasten  and  finish  his  woi'k  in  them  ntore 
speedily,  and  it  may  be  more  exemplurily,  (lor  every  Chrbiian 
is  not  a  liiir  copy.)  as  in  those,  Acts  ii.  87.  In  others  their 
sorrows  soak  in  by  degrees  ;  Chdla  earat  lapidem ;  the  Lon] 
empties  them  by  continual  drojipings,  and  hence  feel  oot  that 
measure  of  sorrow  that  others  do:  every  Christian  is  not  a 
Hemaii,  (Ps.  Ixxxviii.,)  who  suffers  "distracting  fears  and  terrors 
from  his  youth  up,"  (ver.  15,)  who  is  "afflicted  with  all  God'i 


^'ii« 


TBB  lOrND   BSLIKTIS.  189 

,  ways,"  (ver.  7,)  for  he  was  a  man  of  exceeding  high  parts  and 
I  cfis,  as  jou  maj  see,  I  King^  iv.  31  -,  and  therefore  the  Lord 
I  bad  need  of  hanging  some  s]>ecial  plummets  on  his  heart  to  keep 
"ver  low,  lest  it  i^hould  be  lifted  up  above  measure.  Some 
c  of  sin  Ilie  Lord  will  work  in  all  he  saves,  but  not  the  samffi^x^ 
measure  ;  the  Lord  gives  not  always  unio  his  that  which  is  good 
ID  itself,  (it  is  good,  I  confers,  to  be  doepi/  affected  and  humbled,) 
but  that  which  is  lit,  and  therefore  best  for  thee. 

Do  not  think  there  is  no  compunction  or  sense  of  sin  wrought 
in  the  soul  because  you  can  not  so  clearly  discern  and  feel  iL\  -^ 
nor  the  time  of  the  working  and  first  begin'mng  of  it.  I  have 
known  many  that  have  come  with  complaints  —  they  were  never 
huinbled,  they  "fiV^  JH^'  ]'■  s",  nor  yet  couM  tell  the  time  when 
it  was  lo;  yet  there  hath  been,  and  many  times  they  have  seen 
it,  by  the  help  of  others'  spectacles,  and  blessed  God  for  it.  When 
they  in  Iwlah  Ixiii.  17,  complained,  "  Lord,  why  hast  ihou  burd- 
ened our  hearts  from  thy  fear  ? "  do  you  think  there  was  no 
softness  nor  aensiblene«*  indeed?  Yes.  verily,  but  they  felt 
Dolhing  but  a  bard  heart ;  nay,  such  hardness  as  if  the  Lord  had 
plagued  them  wilh  it  by  his  own  immediate  hand,  and  not  born 
and  bred  with  ihem  only,  as  willi  other  men.  Many  a  soul  may 
think  tlie  Lord  liath  left  it,  nay,  smitten  it  with  a  hard  heart,  and 
so  make  his  moan  of  it;  yet  the  Lord  hath  wrought  real  softness,  y 
tinder  aelf-hordness,  as  many  times  in  reprobates  there  is  felt^^ 
soilness  when  within  there  is  real  hardness.  The  stony  ground 
Iicarr nt  were  ploughed  and  broken  on  the  top,  but  were  stony 
at  the  bollom.  Some  men  may  be  wounded  outwardly  and 
murially ;  this  may  easily  be  discerned.  The  Lord  may  wound 
others,  and  ihey  may  bleed  out ;  their  sorrow  is  more  inwardly 
and  secret,  and  therefore  can  not  point  wilh  their  finger  to  the 
wound  as  others  can. 

Do  not  think  (he  Lord  works  compunction  in  all  the  elect  in 
the  same  circumstantial  Work  of  tlic  Spirit,  but  only  in  the  same 
substautial  work ;  the  Lord  works  a  true  sense  of  sin  for  sub- 
glance  and  truth  of  it,  yet  there  are  many  circumstantial  works, 
like  so  many  enlargements  and  mmmenls  upon  one  and  the 
same  text.  £x.  gralia,  the  same  sin  that  afiects  Paul,  it  may 
be,  dolb  not  affect  Lydia  or  ApoUos.  The  same  notions  for  tlie 
aggravation  of  sin  in  mw  do  not  come  into  the  mind  of  the 
other ;  the  tame  comphiints,  and  prayers,  and  turnings  of  s|iirit 
iu  the  one,  may  not  li«  in  the  same  circumstances,  and  with  the 
like  effVctii,  as  in  the  other,  and  yet  both  of  them  feel  sin,  and 
therefore  complain  ;  ihcy  both  feel  sin,  yet  by  means  of  various 
«p|it>;hcnsioiis  and   aggravalions.     This  I  speak,  because  you 


14fl  THK   SOUKn   BBLIETEIt. 

may  Ihc  belter   imder^lnnd  ttie  rneaning  of  God'd  servants  il 
opening  llie  work  of  humiliation.     You  may  hear  them  ea      "" 

JBOul  iloth  lliis,  tuid  thinks  Ihat,  and  B|>eake  anolher  thing ; 
be  every  oae  does  not  so  thiok  in  the  eame  individual  c 
Btonees,  and  therefore  is  lo  be  upderalood  as  producing  onto 
tjetmplum  in  re  limi'li.'  »omctLing  like  ihia,  or  for  the  substaoM 
of  this,  is  here  wrought. 

I  In  this  work  of  compunction  we  must  not  bring  rules  unlgr. 
men,  butmen  tojiileSi  crook  not  God's  rules  to  the  ejperienos 
of  men,"^whiEh  is  fallible,  and  many  timcH  corrupt,)  but  brii^ 
men  unto  the  rule,  and  tiy  men's  eslatus  herein  by  that ; 
rinany  will  say  some  men  ore  not  humhled  at  all,  never  hod  i 
precedent  sorrow  for  sin,  God's  mercy  only  hath  melted  thei 
hearts  ;  and  expericnco  proves  this,  and  many  £nd  this,  who  art 
sincere  and  gracious  Christians.  • 

I  answer,  We  are  not  in  this  or  any  other  point  lo  be  guided 
by  the  experience  of  men  only,  but  attend  the  rule  ;  if  it ' 
proved  that  according  unto  the  rule  men  must  be  broken  B 
affected  with  their  sin  and  misery  before  mercy  can  be  trnlji 
apprehended  or  C'iirist  occupied.  What  tell  you  me  of  suoh  D 
such  men  ?  Let  the  rule  stand,  but  let  men  stand  or  fall  accord 
ing  lo  the  rule ;  many  are  aceounted  gracious  and  godly  for  I 
time,  much  nif'eeted  wiih  mercy  and  Christ  Jesus  ;  yet  afterwar" 
fall  or  wizen  into  nothing,  and  prove  very  unsound. 
What  is  the  reason  ? 

Truly  the  cause  was  here:  their  first  wound  and  sorrow  fi) 
sin  was  not  light,  as  liercnAur  shUiil  be  made  good  ;  miuiy  thoa 
sands  nre  miserably  deceived  al«>ul  their  estates  by  ihb  oi 
thing,  of  crooking  and  wresting  God's  rules  to  Christians'  « 
riencc.     Let  all  God's  servants  tremble  and    be  wary  hi 

(rack  not  the  Holy  Scriptures,  nor  fore*  them  to  speak  as 
feetest,  hut  try  itll  things  by  them.  (1  Thess.  v.  2t.) 

Do  not  make  ihe  examples  of  converted  persons  in  Scri| 
patterns  in  all  things  of  persons  unconvi-rted  ;  do  not  make  ' 
work  upon  llio  one  run  parallel  with  God's  work  upon  Uie 

Some  sny  that  many  in  Scripture  are  converted  (o  CI 
without  any  sorrow  for  sin,  and  produce  the  examples  of  Lj 
whose  heart  God  aweeily  opened  to  receive  Christ;  and  i 
eunuch,  {Aat  vlii.,]  converled  in  the  same  manner. 

I  answer,  These  are  examples  of  persons  converted  to  G 
before,  who  did  believe  in  the  Messiah,  but  did  not  know  t] 
lliis  Jesus  was  the  Messiah,  which  tliey  soon  did  when  the  I^ 
a^t  the  means  to  reveal  Christ;  And  ihereforo  Lydia,  a  Jewl 
lyte,  is  culled  a  worshiper  of  God,  (Acts  xvi.  14,)  and 


TH*   80CND   BlttETKR. 

wu  the  eunuch,  (Acts  viii.  27:)  snd  in  the  game  coodition  wm 
IJh;  centurion,  (Acts  x.  2,)  wlio  Ic-ared  God,  and  whose  prayera 
were  twcepied,  (ver,  4,)  (nhich  can  not  be  without  faith)  yet  did 
not  know  that  this  Jesus  crucified  was  the  Mesaiah,  until  Peter 
came  unto  bira.  So  that,  suppose  here  was  no  sense  or  sorrow 
for  sin,  At  this  time  ;  doth  it  thereiore  follow  thej  never  had 
any  when  the  Lord  at  fir«t  wrought  upon  them  ?  are  these  es- 
nraples  in  persons  convertetl  fit  to  ehow  forth  God's  work  in 
persona  unconverted  ?  In  BOme  things,  indeed,  ihey  are  examples, 
in  others  not  so ;  their  examples  of  believing  in  Christ  are  not 
■D  thai  act  examples  of  sorrow  for  want  of  ChrisL  And  yet  let 
me  add,  to  aay  that  God  opened  Lydia's  heart  to  believe  in 
Chinst,  and  yet  opened  not  her  heart  to  lament  her  sin  and 
miiiery  in  her  estate  without  Christ,  (suppose  she  were  without 
Christ,)  is  more  than  can  be  proved  from  the  text ;  for  it  is  said 
her  heart  was  opened  to  attend  unto  the  things  that  were  spokcD 
by  Paul;  and  can  any  think  that  Paul,  or  an  apostle,  ever 
preached  Christ  without  preaching  the  need  men  had  of  him  ? 
«nd  could  any  preach  their  need  of  Christ  without  preaching 
men's  undone  and  sinful  estate  without  Christ  ?  and  do  you  think 
that  Lyilia  was  not  made  to  attend  unto  this?  do  you  think  that 
when  Philip  came  to  open  the  fifty-third  chapter  of  Isaiah  to 
the  eunuch,  that  ''  Christ  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities;"  that 
be  did  not  let  him  understand  the  infinite  evil  of  sin  and  misery 
of  all  sinners,  and  of  him  in  special,  unless  the  Lord  Jesus  was 
bntiaed  for  him  ? 

In  examples  recorded  in  the  Scripture  of  God's  converting 

grace,  do  not  think  they  had  no  sorrow  for  sin,  because  it  is  "ot^/ 

distinctly  and  expressly  sol  down  in  all  places  ;  for  the  Scripture  '^ 

usually  sets  down  matlera  very  briefly  ;  it  oftentimes  supposeth  ,'y'A 

many  things,  and  refers  us  to  Judge  of  some  by  other  places  ;  as  'i'     m 

(Ads  ru  7)  it  is  said,  "  many  of  the  priests  were  obedient  to  the  '      M 

faith:  "doth  it  therefore  follow  that  they  did  immediately  believe,     ^  J 

without  any  sense  of  sin?     Look  to  a  fuller  example,  (Acts  ■■■,)v^fl 

•nd  then  we  may  see,  as  the  one  were  converted  to  the  faith,        H 

»  were  the  other,  having  a  hand  in  the  same  sin.    (1  Tim.        H 

I  i.  13,  14,)  Paul,  he  was  a  "persecutor,  but  the  Lord  received        H 

[  himlo  mercy;"  and  that  "Gold's  grace  wasabundant  in  faith  and        H 

i  love,"  doth  it  hence  follow  that  Paul  had  no  castings  down,  be-        H 

f  CKUso  not  mentioned  here  ?     If  we  look  upon  Acts  ix.,  we  shall       ^| 

I  we  it  otherwise/'  --^     ^M 

I       Do  not  judge  of  general  and  common  workings  of  the  Spirit    >^H 

m  upon  the  souls  of  any  to  be  the  l>eginnings  of  effectual  and  special  I    ^M 

WtoanrKoa ;  for  a  mas  may  have  some  inwaid  and  yet  common  \   ^| 


iL'KD  BELIEVER. 

knowledge  of  the  gospel,  and  Christ  io  it,  before  there  be  a 
Borrow  fur  em  ;    yet  it  dolh    not  hence  follow  that  the  ] 
begins  not  with  compunction  ami  sorrow,  because  e< 
is  not  special  and  effectual  work ;  when  the  Spirit  thua  comes,  h 
first  begins  hure,  ns  we  shall  prove.^ 

The  terrors,  and  fenra,  and  sense  of  sin  and  death  be  in  thenv^ 
selvea  ofllictioita  of  soul,  and  of  themselves  drive  from  Chriet; 
yet  in  the  hand  of  Christ,  by  the  power  of  the  Spirit,  they  are 
made  to  lead,  or  rather  drive  unto  Christ,  which  is  able  to  turn 
mourning  into  joy,  as  well  a&  after  mourning  lo  give  joy ;  and 
.therefore/it  is  a  vain  lliing  Io  think  there  is  no  need  of  e 
Borrows  which  drive  from  Christ,  and  that  Christ  can  w 
lenough  therefore  without  them  ;  when  as  by  the  mighty  p 
and  riches  of  mercy  in  Christ,  the  Lord  by  j  " 
Ida  of  all  their  carnal  seeuritv  and  flelf-e< 
i^ve,  and  drives  tnem  to  seek  for  life  in  the  iion. 
These  things  thus  premised,  let  us  now  bear  of  the  n 

/  thia  work  to  succeed  conviction. 
^■^d     Else  a  sinner  will  never  part  with  his  sin  J  a  bare 
^     I  of  sin  dolh  but  light  the  candle  to  see  sin;  tompunction 

HhiB  fingers,  and  tliat  only  makcfi  him  dread  the  fire.     ''  " 

"your  hands,  ye  sinners,  and  purify  your  hearie,  ye  double- 
men,  saiih  the  apostle  James,  (chap.  iv.  8.)     But  how  should 
be  done  ?     He  answers,  (ver.  9,)  "  Be  afUicted,  and 
-weep ;  turn  your  laughter  inio  mourning. "    So  Joel  ii.  12. 
prophet  calls  u]K>n  his  hearers  to  turn  from  their  sin  unto  the 
but  how  ?    "  Rend  your  hearts,  and  not  your  garments." 
they  were  able  to  do  this,  but  by  wliat  sorrow  he  requires  of 
general ;  he  thereby  effectually  works  in  the  hearts  of  all  the 
in  particular;  for  every  man  naturally  takes  pkiasure,  nay,  ail  his 

delight  and  pleasure  is  in  nothing  else  but  ein  ;  for  God  he  hath 
none,  but  that.  Now,  so  long  as  be  takes  pleasure  in  sin,  and 
finds  conteninient  by  sin,  he  can  not  but  cleave  inseparably  to  iL 
0,  it  is  awcet,  and  it  only  is  sweet ;  for  eo  long  as  the  soul  is  d( 
"      '  I,  »  pleasure  in  sin  is  death  in  sin."  ( I  Tim.  v.  6.)     So  Ii 

is  dead  in  sin,  it  is  impossible  it  shouhl  part  with  si 
more  than  a  dead  man  can  break  the  bonds  of  death, 
therefore  it  undeniably  follows,  that  the  Lord  must  first  p 
and  wormwood  to  these  dugs,  before  the  soul  will  cease  su 

[or  be  weaned  from  them ;  I**"  Tirti;^""°'_^!!til  it"*"'  "T* 
will  part  with  it ;   load    it  mth  sin,  twforc  it  v 
And  look,  as  the  plei 


E 


^  TBTori 

down  and  desire  i 
ing  sweet  to  a  s 


,  tatter,  before  the  bouI  will  part  from  it. 


■  sorrow  for  it  must  be  exceed 


nF,    HOUND    BELIEVER. 


It  is  true,  I  confess,  a  man  goiuctime  maj  part  with  sin  with- 
out sorrow  ;  the  uocleiui  spirit  may  go  out  for  a  time,  before  he 
is  taken,  bouad,  and  slain  by  the  power  of  ChrisL  But  euch  a 
kind  of  parting  is  but  the  waahiug  of  the  cup;  it  is  unsafe  and 
unsound,  and  the  end  of  such  a  Christian  will  be  miserable  ;  for 
a  man  to  hear  of  hts  sin,  and  then  to  ioy,  I  will  do  no  more  so, 
without  any  sense  or  sorrow  for  it,  would  not  Iuitc  been  ap- 
proved by  Paul,  if  he  had  seen  no  more  in  the  careless  Corin- 
thians, in  tolerating  the  incestuous  |)erson  ;  but  their 
wrought  this  repentance.  No,  the  Lord  abhors  such  whorjsh 
wiping  [he  lips ;  and  therefore  the  same  apostle,  when  be 
reproves  them  for  not  separating  tjie  sinner,  and  so  the  sin  from' 
tbem,  be  sums  it  up  in  one  word;  "  Tbtrhave  riot  moiifne3,  that 
such  a  one  might  be  taken  from  you  ; "  because  then  e 
ered  truly  from  the  soul,  when  sorrow  or  shame,  some  sense  attd 
feeling  of  the  evil  of  it,  begins  it.  Not  only  sin  is  opposite  lo 
God,  but  when  the  Lord  Jesus  first  comes  near  bis  elect  in 
their  sinful  estate,  they  are  then  enemies  themselves  by  sin  unto 
God.  And  hence  it  is  they  will  never  part  with,  their  weap- 
ons, until  themselves  be  thoroughly  wounded  ;  and  therefore  tlio 
Lord  must  wound  their  consciences,  minds,  and  hearts,  berore  they 
will  cast  them  by.  Now,  if  there  be  no  parting  with,  no  separa- 
tion from  sin,  but  sin  is  as  strong,  and  the  siuner  as  vile,  as  ever 
before,  hath  Christ  (who  now  conies  to  save  his  elect  from  sin) 
the  end  of  bis  work?  What  is  the  man  the  better  for  conviction,  ' 
affection  to  Christ,  name  what  you  can,  that  remains  still  in  his 
Bin.4 !'  When  the  apostle  would  sum  up  all  the  misery  of  men, 
he  doth  it  in  those  words,  "  Ye  are  yet-in  your  sin."  So  I  say, 
thou  art  eonvified,  but  art  yet  in  thy  sin;  art  alTccled  with  \_ 
Clirial,  and  lakeat  hold  of  Christ,  but  art  yet  in  thy  on  :  "  He 
that  confesseth  and  forsaketh  his  sin  shall  find  mcrcy."^ 

You  will  say.  May  not  the  sweeincsa  of  Christ  in  the  gospel, 
and  sense  of  mercy,  separate  from  sin,  without  any  compunction  ?  v'' 
I  answer,  1.  S«ase  of  mercy  and  Christ's  sweetness  (I  con-t.  --- 
I  cdvc)  acrvn  principally  to  draw  the  soul  onto  Christ,  (tlcr- 
1  «xxi.  3,)  "  With  loving  kindness  have  I  drawn  thee."  lint 
r  Mmpunction  or  setise  of  slu  principally  serves,  in  the  hand  of 
I  Christ,  lo  turu  the  soul  from  sin.  Aversion  from  sin  is  distinct 
j: -from,  and  in  order  goes  before,  our  conversion  unto  God. 

'.  Sense  of  the  sweetness  of  God's  gmco  in  Christ  keeps  out 
f-Bin,  but  it  doth  not  thrust  out  sin  ut  first,  / 

3.  Christ  con  not  be  effl-'ctuiilly  sweet,  unless  sin  bo  first  mjuleV 
gutter  I  thi^re  may  lie  »oine  general  notice  of  Christ's  excelhaicy, 
e  thirty  pieiva  given  for  hJm  ;  aotmi  esteem  of  his  gnwe, 


1 


144  THE   SOUND   BELIEVER. 

and  hope  of  his  mercj,  which  may  occa?ion  sorrow  ;  bul  I  d 

not  say,  that  this  is  any  sound  or  thorough  work,  lill  after  » 

row.  (Is.l.  4.)     Christ  haih  "tlie  tongue  of  the  learned  given  him 

to  speak  a  wonl  in  season."    Unto  whom  ?     It  is  aildud,  '■  unto 

the  weary ; "  they  are  the  men  that  will  prize  mercy,  and  they 

only  to  purpose ;  they  that  have  felt  the  bitterness  of  sin  and 

vrrath  find  it  exceeding  hard  to  prize  Christ,  and  to  taste  bis 

Bweelness;  how  shall  they  do  it  indeed  that  find  none  at  all? 

1  tiweelness  before  sense  of  sin  is  like  cordials  before  purging  of 

I  a  foul  stomach  ;  which  usually  strengthen  the  humor,  but  recover 

I  not  the  man./' 

Because,  without  this,  no  man  will  either  care  for  Christ,  or 
feel  a  need  of  Christ ;  a  man  nmy  see  a  want,  of  Christ  by  (he 
Jiower  of  conviction,  hut  he  will^never  Feel  a  need  of  Christ,  but 
Vhy  the  spirit  of  eompnnction.  "  ihe  whole  need  not  the  physi- 
cian, but  they  that  are  sick."  A  whole  man  may  see  his  want  of 
a  physician,  but  a  sick  man  only  feeU  his  neeil  of  him,  will  prize 
him,  send  for  hira.  By  the  whole  you  are  not  to  understand 
Huch  as  have  no  need  indet^d  of  Christ,  (for  what  sinner  but  hath 
need  of  him  ?)  but  such  aa  fetl  no  need  of  him ;  as  by  sick  can 
not  be  meant  such  as  are  sinful  and  miserable,  for  (hen  Christ 
should  come  actually  to  save  all  men ;  but  ihoee  that  did  feel 
themselves  so,  as  a  sick  man  that  feels  his  sickness  :  these  only 
the  men  that  feel  a  nee